


Life Goes On

by Miko



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Didn't Know They Were Dating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Past Character Death, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:29:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6275245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanda's method of coping with Pietro's death has been to bury herself in being an Avenger. Steve knows all too well how little that helps. Maybe between the two of them, they can come up with something better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> As always, huge thanks to my beta, Nocturnal Rites. 
> 
> When this story is finished I will have over 2.5 million words posted on AO3, in 193 stories spanning more than 15 years. And that doesn't count the stories I wrote in the first half of my life, all of which have thankfully been lost to hard drive corruption or file formats no longer being readable, haha. Or any of my original novels, for that matter. Holy crap. Well, they say you need to write a million words to get good at the craft, so hopefully it shows, lol.

The new Avengers facility featured a massive wall of marble, a custom apparently carried over from SHIELD. Most of the expanse remained pristine and polished. Only the top left corner was scarred by a series of deep, precise cuts. Letters. Names.

The names of those who’d fallen in the line of duty. The names of the dead. 

Wanda thought it morbid, that they’d carved the letters so small when the wall was so large. It said a great deal about how many they expected to die.

In the darkest part of the night when nightmares chased her awake, she would find herself standing before the memorial. Despite its size, the weight of the rock seemed like nothing compared to the weight of the lives it carried. How much heavier would that weight become, as the gleaming surface was sullied by name after name through the march of time?

At the very top, the first to fall, was the name she came to see.

_Pietro Maximoff._

No larger or fancier than the rest – Rogers had insisted that every life given by Avengers personnel was equally valuable. In theory, Wanda agreed. In practice, she wanted to scream at them for treating Pietro like his loss was no different from all the others.

Ten months. More than three hundred days she’d lived with her heart torn in half. Bleeding out into the void, suffering a constant headache as her powers continued to strain after the one mind forever denied to her. People kept telling her that it would get better with time, that the pain would fade and leave her with the good memories to cherish.

They didn’t understand. They could never understand.

“Maximoff.”

A deep voice broke through the dark surface of her thoughts, and she turned in surprise. Though the base never truly slept, few wandered the halls so late at night. Those who did come close enough to infringe on the edge of her awareness always turned and left, not wanting to intrude on her grief.

Somehow, it didn’t surprise her to see Rogers. He wore jeans and a rumpled t-shirt, a leather jacket thrown over it, and his hair was windblown. He’d just come from somewhere on his bike, then. Not a mission or she’d have heard about it, but she knew his demons could ride him as hard as her own in the depths of the night.

Still, he’d never come to bother her here before. With an effort, she forced her thoughts away from despair. She was an Avenger, and she would do her job to the best of her abilities. It was all she had left. “Do you need me for something?”

For a long moment he studied her, his blue eyes sharp though his expression dragged with weariness he rarely allowed to show. That he trusted her enough to let her see the vulnerability meant a great deal to her.

“You need to stop doing this,” he finally told her, his voice and thoughts laced with sympathy. “You’re torturing yourself, and only making it worse.”

Offended that he of all people would try to lecture her, she snapped back at him. “That’s rich, coming from you. Should I go tear apart some punching bags, then? Or take one of the vehicles and go for a reckless drive that would be suicide for anyone else?”

His grimace said she’d scored a point, but he didn’t back down. Of course he didn’t. This was Steve Rogers. She honestly thought he might not understand the meaning of the words.

“So I know better than anybody it’s not healthy,” he insisted. “Or even helpful. You’re burying yourself in working and brooding, digging deeper with every week that goes by. You need to get out, do _something_ else.”

The bitter laugh that escaped her was sharp enough to cut the air between them. “You may be my leader, and I will follow any order you give me as an Avenger. But you have no right to dictate what I do on my off hours.”

“I’m not saying this as your leader. I’m saying it as your friend.” His sympathy deepened, radiating from him as if trying to wrap her mind in a comforting blanket. She pushed the emotion back at him hard enough to make tiny pain lines appear around his eyes and mouth.

He moved closer, though he stopped just out of arm’s reach. Not because he worried she would lash out; he was perfectly aware that no distance would protect him if she decided to do that. She thought perhaps he was trying to respect her personal space.

Somehow that only angered her further, though she knew full well she _would_ have struck him if he’d tried to touch her.

“I will get a life outside the Avengers the moment that you do,” she challenged him, her tone mocking.

Again he studied her, and there was something in his emotions she couldn’t quite read. Determination, always, and concern wound through the sympathy, but something else tugged at her from beneath all that.

At last he nodded. “Fair enough. Meet me at the vehicle bay at oh-nine hundred tomorrow. We’ll go together.”

The words carried the firm weight of a command, and she stared at him. They were both off duty tomorrow, unless an emergency came up that required all hands on deck. Hadn’t they just covered the fact that he had no right to dictate how she spent her private time? 

“Is that an order?”

“Do I have to make it one?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I won’t. Though if this goes on much longer, it might become one. I’m meeting your terms. You gonna back out now?”

She hadn’t intended her words to be _terms_ , but somehow she was unsurprised he would take them as such. What in god’s name could he be planning? “Where are we going?”

The quirked smile he gave her actually reached his eyes for once, an expression of genuine amusement unlike anything she’d seen from him before. Certainly he teased them sometimes, especially Sam and Natasha, but this was different. He looked… light-hearted. Carefree. As if the weight he always carried on his shoulders had been lifted momentarily, allowing him to catch a breath.

She was fascinated despite herself by how much it changed him.

“You’ll find out when we get there.” His tone was implacable, and she could find no hints in the surface of his mind. The rules she’d agreed to when she formally joined the team included a promise that she wouldn’t dig deeper without permission or dire need. She hadn’t broken their trust yet, and didn’t intend to now.

“Oh-nine hundred,” he repeated. “Dress warm, but be ready to walk and climb. Don’t be late.” Then he turned to leave, and she was left gaping after him in astonishment.

And perhaps, if she was being honest with herself, with an intrigued sliver of curiosity and anticipation.


	2. Act One

Riding with someone else on his bike was a new experience for Steve. Going _anywhere_ with a pretty dame pressed up behind him, arms wrapped around his waist and body moving in tandem with his, was an entirely different kind of new experience.

He did his best to ignore that part, as he always did with Wanda. It was inappropriate for a number of reasons, starting and ending with the very thing that had them both out here today. She was lost in grief for Pietro, vulnerable and lonely, and there was no way in Hell he’d do anything that could be considered taking advantage of that. He wanted to be a safe source of comfort for her, if she’d take it.

Which was exactly what today was all about. All the more important he not mess it up, then.

He drove carefully, conscious of having a passenger as well as the traffic around him. It was one thing to let loose on an empty back road. Another thing entirely when surrounded by people who didn’t have his enhanced reflexes. 

Still, Wanda seemed to enjoy the ride. He could hear her laughing, and felt a vague sense of delight that he knew wasn’t his. After spending so much time around her, Steve had gotten used to sorting out his own emotions from the edges of hers that sometimes leaked through. At least this one was pleasant, unlike the way her grief threatened to drown everyone around her when she started brooding.

When they reached New York proper he had to slow further, but he’d learned the new rhythms of the city well enough to avoid the worst of the traffic. It meant taking a longer route, but that had the added benefit of leaving Wanda completely baffled as to their destination.

Only when they hit the ferry terminal did she figure it out, and he caught a spike of amused exasperation. “Really?” she demanded as she pulled her helmet off. “The Statue of Liberty?”

He grinned at her, and shrugged. “Why not? That’s what you get for making me drag you out, instead of agreeing to go out on your own. I’ve been meaning to get out here and see if it’s changed since I woke up, but things have been a little busy.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but didn’t protest further as he led the way onto the ferry. It was the off-season, and early enough in the day not to be overcrowded, so thankfully they didn’t have to wait.

Steve had seen the approach to the statue before, so he watched Wanda more than the view. She looked impressed almost despite herself as they drew closer. “Pictures don’t do it justice,” she admitted, wide-eyed. “It’s beautiful.”

So was she, standing there with her hair blowing in the breeze, smiling for the first time in quite a while. Clearing his throat, Steve turned his attention to the statue after all. Damn it, he was better than this. If he wasn’t careful, she’d pick up on his interest with her powers.

“Yeah, it never really stops being impressive. My mom loved to tell the story of the first time she saw it, coming in on the ship from Ireland. It represented everything she and my dad came here for.”

“The ‘American Dream’,” she said, and he nodded.

“I know a lot of people don’t really believe in it anymore. But for my family, for a lot of folks back then, it was everything.” Yet another way in which he was different from all the people around him, in the modern age.

“I didn’t realize you were first generation.” A hint of mischief danced in her eyes. “I bet some of your fans would be startled to discover you’re the child of immigrants. You’re supposed to be the very embodiment of America.”

“Aren’t I?” Steve raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s not because my family happened to be here already that I was born here. My parents came to this country _because_ they wanted their kids to be American, to have that chance to better themselves. It’s not a privilege I take for granted.”

She made a thoughtful noise, tilting her head at him before turning to look back at the statue. They were almost finished docking, and from this angle the torch seemed so high it looked like it must surely reach Heaven itself.

Like so much of New York, inside it was both the same as and different from what Steve remembered. There were obvious updates he approved of, like an elevator that went to the top of the pedestal so the elderly and infirm could see more of the statue. Less pleasant was the discovery that trips to the crown were now limited, and tickets for the day long since sold out.

Disappointed, Steve seriously considered playing the ‘Captain America’ card to see if they’d make an exception. It wasn’t something he made a habit of doing; there was no reason he deserved special treatment in a situation like this, and he hated drawing attention to himself.

But he’d wanted to visit the crown his whole life. Now that he was so close, the thought of leaving without going up was even more dismaying. God knew when he’d have the time to come out here again.

Resolutely, he pushed the frustration away. “Well, the view from the top of the platform is still pretty impressive. C’mon, we should get a good look.”

“You are far too well-behaved for your own good,” she teased him. Not the first time she’d said something similar. Not the first time other people had said it, for that matter. “And yet you break rules with no hesitation all the time, when you feel it necessary. Sometimes I think I will never understand you.”

Catching his hand, she tugged him over to the base of the stairs. The young man stationed there opened his mouth, presumably to ask for their tickets, but didn’t get the first word out before his eyes glowed briefly red.

“It’s okay for us to go up, yes?” Wanda asked, all innocence and charm. The man smiled back and nodded happily, and Wanda pulled Steve onto the steps before he could object.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he scolded her, but if he was being honest his heart wasn’t in it. He could feel her excitement and anticipation adding to his own, and that was exactly what he’d wanted out of today - to distract her from her grief. 

Ignoring his protest, she continued up the narrow spiral staircase, and Steve gave in and followed. She glanced back over her shoulder and smiled. Smirked, actually, and Steve made a mental note to have a chat with her later about appropriate use of her powers.

The stairs were no effort for him, though Wanda’s steps were dragging by the time they reached the top. It was Steve’s turn to smirk at her. “Clearly, I should be working you harder in training.”

“Oh, shut up and stop being smug,” she muttered, and smacked him on the arm. Then she was distracted by the view from the windows, moving close so she could see more of the harbor outside.

It was certainly a view that deserved a better look. Steve moved forward as well, taking mental pictures to put into his sketchbook later. He’d have brought it with him, but hadn’t wanted to leave Wanda standing there bored while he drew.

There was already a small knot of people crowding the area, the tour group that was _supposed_ to be up there. Another brief flare of Wanda’s powers, and the members of the group appeared to lose interest in the two intruders. Again Steve wondered if he should say something, but he couldn’t deny he preferred the illusion of privacy.

“Why did you want to come up here so badly?” she asked, watching the boats on the water. “Surely it hasn’t changed _that_ much since your time.”

“Actually, you’d be surprised how unfamiliar the skyline is. Most of the biggest buildings weren’t there back in the 40s,” he told her. “I don’t know what the view from here was like, though, so I can’t compare it.”

“I thought you said you’d been here before?”

Steve flushed, then laughed at himself. “To the island, yeah, but I couldn’t get up the stairs. Tried once, when I was fifteen, but didn’t even make it halfway before I had an asthma attack. Bucky had to carry me back down, it was pretty embarrassing.”

The story made her laugh as well, her eyes sparkling with amusement rather than her powers. Steve hadn’t heard that sort of carefree and happy sound from her before. Surprise followed the laughter, and both were chased away by dismay. She looked away, shoulders hunched.

“Is that the first time?” Steve kept his tone as gentle as he could, wary of pushing her too far in this moment of pain.

She glanced at him again, confusion joining the emotional agony that was clear in her eyes. “First time?” 

“That you’ve really laughed since he died.”

Her hands clenched into fists, and then she hid them by wrapping her arms around her chest and tucking her hands away. “What, do I sound rusty?”

“Nah. I just recognize the signs, that’s all.” He moved up next to her, looking out the same window she was at, close enough for her to feel his presence but not enough to touch. The tour group was trooping down the stairs, leaving them properly alone for at least a few minutes. The timing was suspiciously convenient, but he hadn’t seen her powers flare.

“I remember the first time I laughed, after I lost Bucky,” Steve continued, a touch of gruffness in his voice. “After I lost everything, come to think of it, since it happened after I woke up here. I nearly choked on it. Felt like… I dunno, like it wasn’t right for me to laugh, when he’d never get to laugh again.”

From the corner of his eye he saw Wanda bite her lip, worrying it with her teeth for a moment. “I suppose it is the first time. At least, the first that it was genuine.”

“It wasn’t as if I thought I would never laugh again. Obviously I knew that couldn’t be true.” A wry smile tugged at his lips, and he let it show. “But I thought it’d be something big, you know? Something so funny nobody could not laugh, so it wouldn’t be my fault that I did.”

He was drawing her out of her funk despite herself; her expression had lightened, though she was still hugging herself tightly. “What was it?”

“Oh, a ridiculous comment Natasha made,” Steve admitted with a grimace. “Don’t even remember what, now. One of a dozen others that day alone. Guess it just struck me the right way, at the right moment. Point is, it made me realize something. You know that stupid thing people say, about how your loved one wouldn’t want you to suffer like that? And it kinda makes you wanna punch them, because you _know_ that already, and it doesn’t help.”

She snorted, with the sort of dark amusement he was used to seeing from her. “I’m familiar with the feeling, yes.”

“Well, I realized maybe it wasn’t all that stupid. I just hadn’t been ready to hear it.” Steve shrugged and sighed. “Buck was always trying to drag me out to have fun, get me to lighten up. He could make me laugh faster than anyone else. If he thought for one second I was _guilty_ about laughing, he’d’ve knocked me head over heels, probably.”

Her smile matched his, an equal mix of amusement and rue. “Pietro was the same,” she admitted. “Always joking, never serious. I was so often frustrated with him for it, and now it is what I miss the most.”

She looked up at him, and he pretended not to notice the tears that shimmered on her lashes, though she refused to let them fall. “It has been years, for you. Does it ever stop hurting?” There was an edge of desperation in her voice. That crushing grief was back, hovering at the edges of his mind, trying to draw him into her darkness. 

“No.” Steve wished he could give her the answer she wanted to hear. She shivered and huddled in tighter, and he took a risk and placed a hand on her shoulder. Thankfully she didn’t reject the touch, even inched closer as if she wanted to soak up his warmth.

“It does hurt less, and less often,” he added. He wouldn’t lie to her, or give her empty platitudes, but he wanted to offer what reassurance he could. “You get to the point where you aren’t thinking about him every minute, and then every hour, and even every day. That’s another time you’ll feel guilty, if you haven’t hit it already – when you realize you’ve gone a whole day without actively missing him. Even worse the first time it happens because you’re having fun, not distracted with work.”

The distance she kept between them had continued to shrink as he spoke. Steve finally shifted his hand to her other shoulder, so she was tucked under his arm in a sort of half hug, like Bucky used to do with him. 

It felt strange and awkward with a woman, and in a way it was a painful reminder that even though Bucky was alive, they might never have that part of their friendship back again. At the same time, it felt good to have her there. As comforting to him as he hoped it was to her.

The important thing was, she was finally accepting that comfort. He didn’t think she’d let anyone touch her since she’d come to the base. Maybe not anyone but Pietro in a long time, come to that.

“I won’t give you the speech, because it’s still a stupid thing to say,” Steve finished. “If you were ready to hear it, you wouldn’t need to be told. But keep it in mind, okay?”

She nodded, and he ignored the accompanying sniffle just as he had the threatened tears. It was better for her to cry than to hold it all in, the way she had been doing.

“Hypocrite,” she muttered, and he flushed as he realized she’d caught the direction of his thoughts. “And no, I’m not digging. Physical contact increases my powers a great deal.”

Okay, that was probably at least part of why she avoided touch. But Steve still thought it was a good thing she was reaching out.

“You’re probably right.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, then gave a watery chuckle. “Yes, I know it’s creepy. I can’t help it. Stop thinking so loudly.”

Pleased that he’d gotten her to laugh again, even slightly, Steve hugged her tighter. “You were right as well. I’m glad you called me on it, or I might never have gotten around to coming here.”

“Thank you for sharing it with me.” When she looked up the tears were gone as if they’d never been, though the red in her eyes had nothing to do with her powers.

“Anytime.” He meant it literally, and had a feeling she’d pick that up. He always had time to help a friend. 

She slipped an arm around his waist in turn, and they stood looking out at the skyline in companionable silence for a long while.


	3. Interlude

By no means could Natasha describe herself as a ‘morning person’. Others had, fooled by the fact that she was always up early to work out before breakfast. That was training, not inclination. It also didn’t require much from her mentally. She was perfectly capable of functioning prior to having her morning coffee, but she preferred not to unless it was necessary for the job.

Steve, on the other hand, was very much a morning person. She didn’t know if it was natural, an effect of the serum, or a result of his time in the army, but he was the definition of ‘bright eyed and bushy tailed’ and never failed to rise with the sun.

Even so, he shocked her silly when he responded to her morning greeting in the mess hall with a wide, light-hearted smile accompanying his response. There was a shine in his eyes that she wasn’t used to seeing, and the subtle tension always present in his body language was conspicuously absent.

If it had been anyone but him, she’d have assumed he’d gotten laid. Hell, maybe he had, though he’d shown no signs of interest in anyone that she’d noticed. He really didn’t strike her as the type for an impulsive fling.

“You’re chipper this morning,” she commented, sipping her coffee as she waited for the cook to finish making her omelette. Everything in her was on high alert to analyze his response, but hiding that behind a casual expression was second nature.

“Am I?” Steve seemed to think about that for a moment, before he shrugged. “If you say so. Had a good day yesterday, that’s all.” He moved off to find a spot to sit, joining Rhodey and some of the tac team members at a half full table.

Spotting Sam coming into the hall, Natasha took her tray and sauntered down the line, pausing to say hello. She kept her voice down, but made no attempt to hide the glee and admiration in her tone. “Okay, what the hell did you do with Steve this weekend, and is it repeatable? Because, damn.”

He laughed. “Wish I could take the credit, but it was nothing on me. You haven’t heard? Half the base is gossiping about it. He and Maximoff were out together for most of yesterday.”

“ _Really_.” Thoroughly intrigued, Natasha glanced through her lashes first at Steve, then over at Wanda finishing up her breakfast a few tables away. “Interesting. Where’d they go?”

“They’re not talking, apart from rolling their eyes at anyone who asks if it was a date.” Sam shook his head. “Or rather, Maximoff does. Steve gives them a disapproving look for asking.”

That made Natasha chuckle, because she could easily picture that. Steve was not the type to kiss and tell, and whether it had been a date or not, he’d be offended that the person asking thought he would actually answer.

“We need more intel,” she decided. “I’ll talk to Maximoff, you see what you can get out of Steve. She’s done more in one day to get him to relax than you and I have accomplished in years.”

Sam gave her an ironic salute, and she headed over to set her breakfast down across the table from Wanda. The other woman looked up and murmured a greeting as Natasha slung herself into the seat. Sure enough, Wanda’s smile also did a better job of reaching her eyes than usual.

Knowing Wanda would pick the curiosity out of her mind anyway, Natasha dove right in without preamble. “What did you say to Steve to get him to go out with you?”

The eyeroll Sam had mentioned made an immediate appearance. “Don’t _you_ start. It wasn’t a date!”

“Oh, I know,” Natasha assured her. Wanda looked startled, and Natasha smiled. “If it had been, the two of you would be sitting together this morning. Unless it went badly, but if that was the case you wouldn’t both be in such good moods. So what did you say?”

“What makes you so certain it was my doing?” Wanda toyed with the remains of her oatmeal, drawing little patterns in the bottom of the bowl with the tip of her spoon. It was clear she was embarrassed, or at least not entirely comfortable with the conversation, but she showed no signs of fleeing.

“Despite the best efforts of both Sam and I to get him to go out and have fun, we’ve never succeeded to this degree. You’re the changed variable.” She tilted her head in Steve’s direction. At the moment her back was to him, but Wanda would be able to see him over Natasha’s shoulder. “Have you ever seen or felt him this relaxed and happy?”

Wanda bit her bottom lip and the slightest tint of red entered her eyes as she glanced over at the man in question. “No.”

“I have. Several times, actually.” Propping her elbow on the table and chin on her hand, Natasha took a sip of her coffee before continuing. “Every one of those occasions involved Asgardian mead, which is _not_ the path we want him going down to relax.”

Wanda grimaced, clearly following that thought to the same unpleasant conclusion Natasha had reached long ago. Too many veterans went that route to combat the demons in their heads, and it never ended well. With Steve, it could literally result in a global disaster.

“Why does it matter so much to you?” Wanda asked. “I know you care for him, much more than you wish to admit, but you seem to have made it a personal mission.”

“Actually, it was an official mission when I was first assigned to work with him after the Battle of New York. I was ordered to help him adjust to the modern world, but also to keep an eye on him and try to prod him into _living_ again instead of just existing. And to make sure he didn’t do anything self-destructive.”

At Wanda’s incredulous expression, Natasha laughed. “Keep in mind, we didn’t know anything about him except what the history books told us. He’d lost _everything_ , in a way no one else can ever truly comprehend, and he hadn’t been coping well. Not until the mission came along that he was desperately needed for, and Captain America found a reason to live again.”

“But Steve Rogers still hasn’t,” Wanda replied, proving that she’d been paying more attention than most people. Then again, probably she understood better than anyone the toll Steve’s single-minded focus on the job was taking on him. “Looking for his lost friend is personal, but not living.”

Natasha nodded. “Granted, he’s never going to be the guy to swallow a gun or drive off a cliff. When he dies, it’ll be on a battlefield, no question in my mind. What worries me now is that we know he’s more than willing to sacrifice himself if that’s the only way to win. Without something concrete to live for, he might not try quite as hard as he could to be sure it _is_ the only way.”

“That is not the thing you should be worried most about.” Wanda’s eyes glowed again for a moment, and the dark edge had returned to her smile. “What should worry you is that without something to remind him of life outside battle, he may lose sight of what he’s truly fighting _for_.”

That was also a possibility that had occurred to Natasha, and sometimes kept her awake at night. Steve’s absolute determination to do the right thing no matter what – and his incredible ability to inspire others to follow him - was only a positive trait so long as he _was_ doing the right thing.

Alexander Pierce had truly believed he was saving the world from itself, after all. He’d just lost track of the value of what he was sacrificing in the process.

“So we agree that Steve needs to get a life.” Natasha spread her hands, palm up. “Which brings us back to my original question. _How_ did you get him to go out and have fun for a day?”

With a deep sigh, Wanda gave in. “He came to lecture me about burying myself in the job and wallowing in my grief. I told him he was a hypocrite, and that I’d get a life outside the Avengers as soon as he did.”

Natasha snickered, a hand over her mouth to keep the sound from growing loud enough to draw attention. Only when she was certain she had control did she reply. “Oh my god, why didn’t I think of that? Not that it would have worked if I tried it, but I could have suggested other people take that approach.”

Wanda arched an eyebrow, clearly baffled, so Natasha elaborated. “Steve may not take the best care of himself, but he will _never_ fail to take care of someone he considers a responsibility. Plus, you turned it into a challenge.”

That drew a chuckle from Wanda as well. “You have a point.”

“Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do in your off hours. And Steve’s mental health is certainly not your responsibility.” Natasha leaned in, imploring. “But if you’re at all inclined to a repeat performance, you have my blessing and support. I think it did _both_ of you a lot of good.”

“There may have been something to the idea.” Wanda’s smile was reluctant, but sincere. She glanced away again, presumably at Steve, and nodded. “All right. It’s only fair to turn the tables on him, I suppose.”

With mischief creeping into a smile that was no longer reluctant, she stood and headed around the table. Natasha turned just enough to be able to follow her progress without being too obvious about it. Wanda caught up with Steve near the doors; he’d bolted his food as usual, and was probably heading out to do more training. They were just close enough for Natasha to hear what they said.

“We’re both off duty on Thursday, yes?” Wanda asked.

Steve blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah, why?”

“Good. It’s my turn to drag you somewhere. Oh-nine hundred. Dress to be walking outside.”

Though he was clearly bemused by her imperious tone, Steve’s smile was no less genuine than Wanda’s had been. “Yes, ma’am. You’re gonna have to tell me where we’re going so I can get us there, though.”

“What makes you think you’re driving?” Wanda smirked, and Steve laughed.

Catching Sam’s eye across the room, Natasha winked at him. He grinned broadly in return. Score two for the home team.


	4. Act Two, Part One

The moment Wanda turned onto Ocean Parkway, she caught a spike of discomfort and apprehension from Steve. Surprised and concerned, she glanced at her passenger. “Are you all right?”

He was staring out the window, where their destination had come into sight - the area of New York referred to as ‘Coney Island’, though she’d seen no sign that it actually was an island. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered her, but the look on his face was distant, closed off, and she could feel he was lost in memories. 

Maybe this hadn’t been such a clever idea after all. Wanda had been sure she’d hit on the perfect revenge for him dragging her to the Statue - an appropriately cheesy tourist trap, but something fun that she had always wanted to do. She’d forgotten to account for the fact that he’d probably been here before, and it might not be a good memory the way the Statue had been.

“You don’t feel ‘fine’,” she countered. She was hesitant to poke him too hard, wary of setting off an emotional landmine. He’d been so good about respecting her need for space, even while trying to draw her out. She wanted to do the same in return, but it was surprisingly difficult when the turmoil he held hidden inside rubbed over her powers like sandpaper against her skin.

To her relief, the pain eased off, and when he turned to her with a smile it almost looked genuine. “It’s okay, really. Caught me by surprise, is all. Haven’t been here since I was a kid.”

“Has it changed much?” She was always curious about his perspective on this. He had a unique experience, having seen the city at two such different times, but never in between.

“Could say that.” He chuckled, but she caught the undertone of sadness, the kind of ‘homesick’ that could never be fixed because that home was no longer there to go to. Something she was all too familiar with herself. Wanda bit her lip, guilty. She knew she’d contributed to making him feel that way, with the nightmare she’d given him. 

“There’s a few old friends, at least. Can’t believe the Cyclone is still operating.” Now his laughter was only mirth, mixed with embarrassment. “Last time I rode that thing I threw up all over Bucky.”

“No,” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “You? I don’t believe it.”

“I was a lot different before the serum,” he reminded her, and now he was smiling in a way that reached his eyes. “Guess I’m not likely to puke again, but I figured I probably oughta warn you.”

She chuckled, which reminded her of their conversation the week before. He’d been right, it was easier to laugh now that she’d done it the first time. Not so much a betrayal of Pietro’s loss, and more a reminder of his life. It still hurt. God, it hurt so bad. But it was good, too.

“I’ve never been to an amusement park,” she confessed. “I’ve heard of them, but there are none in Sokovia, and we wouldn’t have been able to afford it even before the bombs came.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat, then. Dunno how Coney stacks up against other places these days, but I hear it’s still pretty popular.” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced out the window again. Apprehension had been joined by cautious anticipation. 

Good enough, for now. Hopefully by the end of the day, the pain would fade entirely and this place could be a pleasant memory again. Wanda was surprised how much the thought made _her_ feel better.

It didn’t take long for them to get thoroughly lost among the concession stands and attractions. She’d thought it would be one big park, but it was made up of many smaller venues. Steve refused to buy a map, insisting that the best way to experience it was to explore wherever their fancy took them. 

Perhaps there was something to his theory. Without a plan to try to stick to, they went this way and that, in no particular hurry. They did get into a brief argument about who was paying for what, which he won by pointing out that he had plenty of savings while she was still trying to rebuild her life from nothing. 

“Anything you try to sneak by me, I’ll put right onto your next paycheque,” he promised with a gleam in his eyes and steel determination in his thoughts. “So don’t bother.”

“Fine, you win.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave him an arch look. “Bossy.”

“Well, I am your boss.” 

“Not today, you’re not. This is my day to be in charge.” Wanda grabbed his hand and pulled him into the line for the Cyclone. “Come on, then.”

The coaster was so much fun Wanda insisted on going back twice more. She loved the feel of the wind in her hair and the way her stomach fell as they plunged down the drop. 

Steve sighed as he paid for the third trip. “Y’know, I remember when this ride cost a quarter,” he muttered, too low to catch the attention of the people in line with them. Then he rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I sound like a grumpy old man, don’t I.”

“Only a little,” she teased him. “You’re the one who insisted on paying.”

“I’m not going back on it. You said it, this is your day. We can do whatever you want.” There was no hint of reluctance in his emotions… though she did catch genuine chagrin that he hadn’t realized _how_ much prices would have changed.

After that she took pity on him, and they only went on each ride once. The Wonder Wheel turned out to be another memory from his past. She sat across from him in the car, watching the view as the wheel turned and they rose into the air, but the part she was truly enjoying was the relaxed happiness she picked up from him. 

He put his foot down on the subject of what to have for lunch, buying them both orange soda and enormous hot dogs covered in toppings from a restaurant he claimed the place was famous for. Wanda had to admit the food was surprisingly good, though he ended up eating more than half of hers as well as his own because it was simply too much food for her. 

They both tried their hand at some midway games. Wanda nearly laughed herself sick when they found the Captain America booth, where players had to toss frisbees painted like his shield at targets. Steve shook his head, but stepped up gamely when she demanded he play. Of course he knocked down every one of the bottles. The prize was a life-sized shield replica, and Wanda broke into giggles all over again.

A young girl nearby did a double-take and stared wide-eyed at him as he stood there with the fake shield. The child was frail and small, wearing a cap that didn’t quite hide her smooth, hairless scalp. Wanda had been quietly diverting attention from them all day, knowing he sometimes got mobbed when he went out. She’d wanted a day just for them, not for him to have to put on a show for a crowd. This one, however, she allowed to approach. 

“Hey, mister,” the girl said, shy but excited. “Are you really _him_?”

Steve turned with a practiced smile, and she knew she’d been right to keep people at a distance. In the space of the time it took the girl to finish the question, he’d pushed Steve Rogers away and pulled on the mask of Captain America, invisible though it might be.

When he saw the child, however, his smile softened into something more genuine. “Depends,” he said, as he went down on one knee to be at her level. He was still playing the part, but she could feel his pleasure at making a very sick little girl happy. “Can you keep a secret? I’m undercover today.” 

He winked at her, and she nodded eagerly. His smile turned into a grin, and he passed her the prize shield. “Tell you what. How ‘bout you keep this safe for me? That way if I need an extra, I’ll know who to call.”

Wanda caught a wisp of thought from him, and she quickly snagged a marker from the booth and passed it over. He nodded his thanks and signed the shield with a flourish that surprised her. Then she remembered hearing somewhere that he’d toured with the USO before fighting in the war, and even starred in some movies. Presumably he’d gotten used to giving autographs then.

The girl headed back to her parents, clutching the shield to her as if it would save her life, and Wanda slipped her hand into Steve’s as he stood. “That was very sweet of you.”

“I don’t mind so much, though I’m glad we haven’t been mobbed.” Steve shrugged, and she could sense embarrassment mingled with a sort of quiet pride. “You know I like helping people, and that’s a different way of doing it.”

“This was already the best day she’d had in a long time, but you made it extra special,” Wanda assured him. “Come on, hero. Let’s see if we can find a game you’ll lose at. Cheater.”

By the time the sun began to set they were both weary and footsore - though him less so than her, annoyingly. Just when Wanda was about to suggest they should head for home, they turned a corner and Steve lit up. 

“Aw, one of them is still here,” he exclaimed, gesturing at the shining lights and faint music of a carousel down the street. “They moved it, so I thought it was gone with the others.”

“Another old friend?” she asked, using his term from that morning.

“Yeah. A Coney Island carousel was the first ride I ever went on. Not this one, they didn’t bring the B&B back from Jersey until I was a teenager. But it was one of my favourites, and it’s nice to see it’s still being enjoyed.” He was lost in the past again, but this was a good memory, truly untainted by grief or longing for the first time that day.

”I’ll never forget that day. Mom scraped enough together to take me and Bucky both for my tenth birthday,” he added. “We had hot dogs and ice cream, rode the carousel, and watched the fireworks on the beach.” 

His smile didn’t only reach his eyes, it went all the way through him, sending waves of happiness at her. Wanda couldn’t help but smile back, and for one breathless moment, they both forgot about anything but playful delight.

She couldn’t have asked for a better end to the day.

* * *

As it happened, their duty rosters didn’t line up again until nearly three weeks later. Wanda surprised herself with how much she missed the outings, and how much she hoped he would approach her again.

‘Days off’ were relative for Avengers, however, and he was gone with Sam the entire week before what would have been the day they had together. Until he came jogging up to her that morning, Wanda had resigned herself to the idea that she wouldn’t even see him.

“Hey, there you are.” He hadn’t even changed out of his uniform, just pulled the cowl off to reveal sweat-slicked hair. It was clear he’d come straight from the hangar. “Was afraid I might miss you. Got plans for today?”

“I don’t know. Do I?” she replied with a teasing smile. She didn’t want to admit, even to herself, that she’d left the day open specifically because she’d been hoping for this.

“Well, you oughta, if you’d learned your lesson from the last two times.” His words were scolding, but she didn’t need powers to tell he was pleased. 

“Maybe the lesson I’ve learned isn’t quite the one you intended.” He’d meant her to come out of her shell, stop burying herself in her work, and he’d succeeded in that… but only when he was the one to provide the distraction. Knowing she was at least serving his own medicine back on him was a large part of why she enjoyed going out.

And if she was being honest, feeling him begin to relax and let go of some of his pain helped her to do the same. Perhaps grief shared truly was grief halved. “Does that mean you’re dragging me out again?”

“Gimme thirty to get cleaned up, and I’ll meet you in the mess,” he said. “You’re dressed fine as you are.”

“If you’re late, I get to be the one to choose where we go,” she told him, and he chuckled. 

“I’ll be there, don’t worry. Go on.” He made shooing motions at her. From the anticipation he was feeling, she didn’t doubt he’d keep his word.

In fact, he made it in twenty minutes, scrubbed clean and dressed casually. “Where are we going this time?” she asked as he walked up.

Steve gestured for her to join him, heading for the hangar. “Uh-uh. That would be cheating. You’ll find out when we get there. If you wanna go places you pick, make actual plans instead of forcing me to drag you out.”

“Or I could wait for our next day off together,” she pointed out, hooking her hand over his arm. She’d discovered that unlike most people, she didn’t mind touching him. She enjoyed the way he felt, warm and comforting. Welcoming. “You do realize I’m going to pay you back every time you do this.”

“Fair’s fair,” he agreed, and gave her one of his increasingly less rare genuine smiles.

As little as Wanda wanted to spend any time in Stark Tower, it was certainly convenient to be able to take the Quinjet from the base into New York. This time they rode the subways rather than taking a car from the Tower. When she realized they were heading for Brooklyn she was first surprised, then touched.

Brooklyn was his hometown, and she knew he still held deep ties to it. More than once she’d heard him mention or think wistfully about getting a home for himself there, but apparently the area was now too expensive for him, even with the payout the Army had given him when he woke. 

Wanda thought most people would be surprised how little the Avengers actually made. Probably if he asked, Stark would loan or even give him the money for anything he wanted. However, the idea of Steve Rogers accepting charity was only slightly less ludicrous than the idea of him admitting defeat. He was far too stubborn, and too proud.

That he was willing to take her to a place that meant so much to him, in a far more intimate and personal way than the statue or the fun park, meant a lot to Wanda. She only wished she had something similar she could share with him in turn.

The park area he brought her to was larger than she’d thought to see in such a crowded city. She’d heard of Central Park, of course, but hadn’t realized there were others. However, the building he stopped in front of wasn’t at all what she’d expected. “An art museum?” she exclaimed with a laugh. “Are you trying to find places to bore me into not making you drag me out?”

His expression barely changed, a slight increase in tension that thinned his lips and narrowed his eyes, but his mental flinch away from her suggested her joke had struck a deep nerve. “Well, if art’s not your thing, there’s plenty of other places here. Would the botanical garden count as boring too? There’s a zoo.”

Too late, Wanda remembered the times she’d spotted him tucked away in a quiet corner somewhere, sketching. He didn’t do it often, too busy being run off his feet doing his job as an Avenger. That he found time for it at all said more than words could how important it was to him. 

Before these trips had begun, those stolen moments were the closest she’d ever felt him come to peace and relaxation. He’d been trying to share something that meant a great deal more to him than being in his hometown, and she’d thrown it back in his face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, projecting contrition and regret as hard as she could. “Steve, please. I was making a joke. You surprised me, that’s all.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” he insisted, and his awkward shrug did a poor job of covering the hurt she could still feel. “It’s not for everybody. Though maybe you’re right and it’s the strategy I should be using.”

He’d closed off completely, his expression shuttered and thoughts withdrawing in on him until she could hardly touch the edges without prying. When he caught her hand and tugged, trying to lead her away from the museum, Wanda dug her feet in and leaned back against his pull. He was strong enough to drag her like a small child if he wanted to, but he stopped and looked back at her instead.

“The closest I’ve ever come to art was the anti-Stark graffiti on the walls of the market, and the ruin of the cathedral,” she admitted, struggling to find some way to convince him that she was sincere in wanting to go inside. “The missiles didn’t care if what they struck was priceless history. There were no museums left standing. I want to see it. Please?”

Steve stared her down for a long moment, and she could sense him searching for the lie in her plea. Wanda bit her lip, ashamed that her thoughtless comment had undone nearly everything their last two outings had wrought. He was right back in his shell, all that was Steve Rogers hidden once more under the neutral and impersonal Captain America.

There were two circumstances when he seemed to retreat behind Cap’s shield for safety. Not the physical one, but the emotional equivalent. When duty called, of course, it didn’t matter if he was wearing the uniform or not. And duty could include moments such as that little girl approaching him at the park, even though for him that was a kind of pleasure as well.

Moments such as this, however, happened when something hit too close to home. Perhaps it wasn’t Captain America at all, because instinct told her he’d done this kind of hiding long before he got the serum. He was a private man, and never wanted others to see his suffering.

The wariness in his eyes pained her, though not nearly as much as the pain she’d caused him. “I’ve never understood the appeal of dusty old carvings and paintings of people dead for hundreds of years,” she tried. “Will you help me to see it? Show me why you care so much for it?” 

Finally he sighed, and the tight curl of his emotions eased open again. “Well, if that’s all you think is in there, guess I can’t blame you,” he said. “I mean it though, if you’re not interested…”

In his mind was the thought that it would be far less painful to not go in at all, compared to the idea of dragging someone who didn’t want to be there through one of his favourite places in the city. 

“I’m interested in why _you_ are interested,” she countered, and it was her turn to tug him in the direction she wanted to go. For a moment he resisted as she had, then followed her reluctantly. 

Wanda made a private vow to hold tight to her powers, not let her reactions leak through to him unless they were good ones. This was clearly a special, beloved place, and she would not ruin that for him. Or at least, no more than she already had.

Until it was gone, she hadn’t realized how much he’d let her see of his true self already, how much of his real emotions he permitted her to sense. Not that the latter was purposeful, but for a man so terrible at lying, he was remarkably good at hiding any internal or personal pain. 

Already she missed the soft brush of his mind against hers, the warmth of his hand on her arm or shoulder. Though she held his hand now, it somehow wasn’t the same.

Fortunately, once they were inside the museum Steve’s genuine enthusiasm for the art on display helped to distract him from his wariness. Wanda could appreciate the aesthetic beauty of some of the works, but seeing them through the filter of his love for the medium was enlightening. 

It was clear that he knew a great deal about the subject, as he walked her through the collection and pointed out this brush technique or that method of sculpting. Not only the artists from before the 40s, either. He knew the later ones as well, which said a great deal about his passion for the subject.

The biggest surprise came when they entered the modern art wing, and he relaxed further. There was joy and pleasure in his emotions as he regarded the paintings, and something that might have been proprietary pride. 

“You like modern art?” She couldn’t help but stare at him. He was such a grounded person, so focused on the concrete and immediate facts of life, despite his hidden artistic streak. In all honesty, she’d expected him to be unimpressed by such abstract art.

“Why does that keep startling people?” He looked bemused. “What they call Abstract Expressionism was born right here in New York, around the time I was taking classes. Hadn’t taken off yet, but a lot of the people around me were starting to head in that direction. And Surrealism was in its heyday.” He shrugged. “I ain’t much good at it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it. Even more now that I can see all the colours. It’s a _lot_ harder to do than painting or drawing something real, in my opinion.”

“Harder?” She turned to the nearest painting, a splatter of seemingly random colours thrown on the canvas, doubtful. “It looks like the sort of finger-painting a small child might do in school.”

Then her brain caught up with her mouth, and she winced. It was exactly the sort of dismissive comment that might drive him away again.

Thankfully, when she glanced at him she found a small smile playing over Steve’s lips, and he was more resigned than upset. “You’re not the first person I’ve heard say so,” he acknowledged. The flavour of his thoughts was old and deep. She could guess that she was far from the only one he’d tried to share this with, and failed. “Think of it as...”

He paused, and she felt him struggle to put his beliefs into words. “Art is about telling a story, right? All art, really. A good visual artist can make you understand the story they’re telling. A great one, the masters like Da Vinci, Rodin, Van Gogh, they can make you _feel_ their story. If you’re receptive to it, anyway.”

Steve gestured at the painting in front of them. “This kinda thing, though, that’s different. Abstract art boils things down to their basic concepts. A good artist gives you the structure and framework of the story, the tone and mood, but they don’t give you the _words_. The viewer has to tell the story themselves, and that means it’s always personal. Maybe different every time someone looks at the painting. The artist isn’t telling you a story, they’re giving you one.”

Thoughtful, Wanda tilted her head and considered the painting. Put that way, it certainly did seem more difficult than drawing something concrete. 

Catching her shoulders gently in his large, strong hands, Steve turned her to face the canvas head-on. He stood behind her, close enough for her to feel his warmth, hands still on her shoulders. “Look at it. Don’t think about it, just look at it. What does it make you feel?”

“I feel _you_ ,” she replied wryly. The contact strengthened her sense of his thoughts and emotions, even more than usual because her sleeveless dress meant they were skin to skin. Wanda shivered, but it had nothing to do with her feelings about the painting. He could be so reserved, sometimes it startled her how incredibly _much_ he felt.

Right now he was a wash of tentative desire for her to understand his passion, mixed with bright pleasure at getting to share this more private side of himself with someone he cared for. 

Then the connection was gone abruptly as he lifted his hands and stepped back, and all she picked up was chagrin and embarrassment. “Sorry, I forgot. Didn’t mean to push at you.”

“It’s all right,” she assured him, turning and reaching for his hand. He let her catch it, fingers wrapping around each other. “I don’t mind so much, when it’s you.”

That sent another flush of happiness running through him, and she smiled in response. In the past few weeks she’d come to realize that he avoided touch almost as much as she did, and yet longed for the contact no less than her. For different reasons, both in the avoidance and the need, but that didn’t make the desire any less real.

“The question is what the painting makes _you_ feel, though. Not me.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and nudged her back toward it.

Looking at it once more, Wanda did indeed feel something. It had nothing to do with the painting, or at least, only as much as the painting was a symbol of this moment in time. “Hope,” she replied, voice so soft it was nearly a whisper. 

Hope that maybe, just maybe, the gaping hole in her soul caused by Pietro’s loss didn’t have to bleed out forever. It would never stop hurting, never - but perhaps, as he’d said, it would stop hurting so _much_. And when the pain did inevitably come, having someone she could turn to for comfort might make far more of a difference than she’d imagined it could.

“I see hope,” she repeated, squeezing his fingers. Glancing back at him through her lashes, she evaluated the thrill he experienced at believing he’d gotten her to understand. That she could see the beauty and meaning in the seemingly random spatters of paint.

She either had to tell him the truth, or hide it forever when he tried to share his art with her. There was no question in her mind which he would prefer, even if it was painful. She sighed. “I also see a finger-painting.”

For a brief moment the hurt rose again, but she was relieved when he was overtaken by rueful amusement. “Well, like I said, it ain’t for everyone. God knows a lot of what gets sold these days, I’m pretty sure _is_ a kid playing with paint. I hope you weren’t bored the whole time, though?”

“Not at all,” she assured him, perfectly honest. “I don’t think I would ever seek it out, but it was more interesting than I expected. I can see the beauty in the images, and the effort that went into them. Well, most of them.” The portraits of people nobody had ever heard of still seemed meaningless, but there had been many others. Even a few that made her feel something.

“I would love to see your work,” she added, impulsive but genuine. 

He blushed, and pleased embarrassment washed over her. “I only dabble in it, really. Sure as anything can’t compare to the stuff in here.”

“But it’s yours, and means something to you, yes?” She smiled at him. “So it will mean more to me than the prettiest painting from a stranger.”

“Yeah, okay,” he ‘gave in’, and smiled back at her with a shy look in his eyes. 

“Come,” she commanded, tugging at his hand once more. “Tell me more about the stories these are supposed to give, and perhaps we’ll find one I can read. Then you can show me yours when we get back.”

“Show you mine, huh? What, you wanna come up and see my etchings?” Steve snickered, a thread of naughty amusement in his laughter. Wanda didn’t recognize the reference, but she certainly understood the meaning.

That sort of joke, so rare from him, was the best possible sign that she’d finally undone the harm caused by her first thoughtless response to the location. Even better was the lightness in his step and brightness in his heart as he led her further into the wing of the museum. 

Glancing back at the first painting, Wanda smiled to herself. Hope, indeed. It was almost enough to make her like the awful thing.


	5. Act Two, Part Two

It was maybe, perhaps, just barely possible Steve was fudging the duty roster so his days off would line up with Wanda’s. Not so often it would raise questions, but more than it should have. He did want to have time to spend with Sam and Nat, and be able to do his own thing. Not to mention giving Wanda a chance to do the same.

He was also half-certain Natasha was messing with the roster before he ever got his hands on it, because it was surprisingly easy to nudge things the right way without making too many changes.

Steve wasn’t sure when this thing between him and Wanda had turned from a challenge into a game. Somehow they’d fallen into a teasing pattern, telling each other what to wear but not revealing the location until they arrived, taking turns back and forth. There was no question anymore whether they would spend their mutual days off together, and he couldn’t remember having so much fun since the war had started and Bucky joined the Army.

Better yet, _she_ was having fun, smiling and laughing more often, opening up to him in a way he’d never seen from her before. She still grieved for Pietro, and he continued getting reports that there were nights nobody could get near the Wall without the risk of being dragged into her darkness, but it wasn’t happening anywhere near as often. He let her be, knowing that some things couldn’t be rushed, content with the fact that there was any improvement at all.

She brought him right back to Prospect Park, fascinated by his mention of a zoo there. He’d been before, many times, but it was fun to watch her exclaiming over animals she hadn’t seen outside of pictures. He retaliated by returning again for a trip to the botanical garden. They both enjoyed it more than he’d honestly expected to, the beautiful colours beginning to unfurl with the advent of spring helping to chase away the winter blahs.

That led to her insisting on a walk through Central Park. She demanded to watch while he drew, occupying herself with feeding seeds to the ducks when she got bored of looking over his shoulder, and he secretly ended up doing a second quick sketch of her that he could fill out later. His next choice was the New York Public Library, another old friend. Embarrassed, she admitted that she’d never really had time to read and her written English wasn’t very good, but she was happy to sit in the beautiful building and have him read her some of his favourite passages from childhood books.

When he realized she was heading for the Smithsonian, however, Steve groaned and objected for the first time. “Really? _Here_?” 

He was startled to realize how long it had been since he’d visited. He’d gone probably more often than he should have when he’d been living in D.C., drawn to the good memories the place held for him. It was as close as he could come to seeing his friends again.

Since then he hadn’t lived nearby, not to mention being involved in the hunt for Bucky and the reformation of the Avengers. But, he also hadn’t felt as much _need_ to do so, especially in the last few months.

“What’s wrong with here?” Wanda asked, dismay flickering at the edge of his awareness. “I thought you told me you’d never left New York before the war. How can you have bad memories of this place?”

“Not bad ones, just… it’s going to be awkward.” He sighed, and rubbed his hands over his face, feeling tired already at the thought of facing the crowds in there. “If you’d at least warned me, I could’ve worn a cap or something, it helps.”

“Why would you need… oh, that’s _right_!” she exclaimed. Laughter sparkled in her eyes and threaded through her voice, though she didn’t quite let it loose. “There’s an entire exhibit for Captain America here, isn’t there?”

“They took it down after the mess with the helicarriers, but apparently there was so much public demand they finally returned it.” He couldn’t help but sound wry as he said the words. It had been weird enough to have a museum exhibit for himself in the first place. Having the public demand it be reinstated was a new level of strange.

At least, if she’d forgotten about the display’s existence, that wasn’t why they were here. Steve wasn’t at all sure how he felt about dragging himself through those memories with someone at his side. Especially someone who would feel every emotion that ran through him.

She must have been picking up on some right now, because he felt a wordless sense of comfort before her hand brushed his. “It’s all right. We don’t have to go into that wing, I promise.” Wanda smiled at him, but there was sadness in her eyes. If there had been an exhibit for Pietro, she wouldn’t have wanted him tramping through the precious memories, either.

Belatedly it occurred to Steve that his trips here were more or less the equivalent of her standing at the Wall every night. Less morose, more nostalgic, but still spending time in the past rather than looking forward to the future.

“We don’t have to go in at all,” she said, and now he could feel concern beneath her offer of comfort. “Really, Steve, if it bothers you too much…”

“No, it’s fine,” he assured her, willing her to sense that he meant it. “There’s a whole museum in there, way more than my wing. Plenty to do and see. Though, I do wish you’d warned me so I could wear a disguise of _some_ kind.”

“Why? Because you’ve so often been hounded by crowds while we’re out together?” The smile playing over her lips was teasing, but also smug. Steve narrowed his eyes at her.

“Actually, no,” he realized. “I’ve gotten a lot less attention than I usually do even with the cap or glasses. Have you been keeping people from noticing us somehow?”

“I walked up to every one of you in Africa, and only Clint saw me coming.” Her smirk widened. “Making people doubt or second-guess who you are is easy.”

“But some people _have_ recognized me.” His mind raced with the implications. Clint hadn’t seen her coming, he’d anticipated her based on what was happening to the rest of the team. That didn’t explain the strangers on their outings who got past her. “Are there some people who are immune to your powers? I need to account for that possibility when I’m making plans.”

“You mean like the dying little girl at Coney Island?” Wanda’s smile took on a crooked quality, and her voice softened. “Or the old man in Central Park who thanked you for saving his life in the war? I let them see you. I can keep them all away, if you wish…”

“No.” Bemused and grateful, Steve shook his head. “No, those were good calls, and all the rest. It’s nice not to have to worry about it, but I don’t mind sometimes. If it’s not too draining for you, I appreciate it.”

It really was nice to be able to have time for _himself_. Not needing to worry about being mobbed by fans, or having someone snap a picture of him at a bad moment that he’d see plastered all over the tabloids the next day. Or worse, being hounded by people who _didn’t_ look up to Captain America, who blamed the Avengers for the death and destruction that surrounded them, exactly as Wanda and Pietro once had.

“It’s good practice,” she said. “If you were in uniform and throwing your shield around, I might object to the strain. This, I can handle.”

He grinned at the joke, and turned his hand in hers to squeeze it. “All right then. Let’s go check out the rest of the place.”

As often as he’d come here, Steve was ashamed to realize he’d spent very little time outside the Captain America wing. He’d gone through it as part of his attempt to educate himself about the future and the history he’d missed, but it hadn’t been about having fun or new experiences. With Wanda, he was able to see the real wonder of the place.

As it happened, at the end of the day they wound up outside his exhibit after all, coming at it from a different angle so Steve hadn’t realized how close it was. Wanda glanced inside as they passed, and her amusement and excitement washed over him as she came to an abrupt halt.

“Is that you when you were little?” she asked, pointing at one of the first displays, barely visible from the doorway. It was the picture that changed back and forth from before and after the serum, highlighting all the differences between his old self and his present one.

“I thought you said we weren’t going in there,” he protested as she tugged his hand in that direction. He was dismayed and embarrassed, and pushed the emotions at her as he’d learned to do.

“Just this, I promise,” she insisted. “We won’t go any further, but this I have to see.”

“Never seen the pictures before?” Though, come to think of it, Sokovian schools probably didn’t care much about Captain America, and certainly not Steve Rogers.

“Oh, I have, but it’s different in life size.” Glancing around them, she waved her fingers and flutters of red drifted out. The picture halted on his smaller self. Then her eyes flashed, and people stopped paying any attention to the area, giving them a wide berth.

Studying the image, Wanda tilted her head. “I thought you said you had trouble finding dates back then? You were adorable.”

Wincing, Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, that ain’t exactly the description most guys are hoping for from a pretty dame.” Adorable, for real? That was worse than ‘cute’.

“Mmh, I suppose.” She seemed thoughtful, even amused, but not at his expense. If she felt any disdain or contempt, she was being careful not to project it .

While he normally disliked dealing with before and after comparisons, Steve found he was curious what her response was. “Pretty different, huh?”

“I don’t think so.”

Steve stared at her, completely floored by the unexpected response. “Are ya blind?”

Perhaps registering his shock and disbelief, she glanced over and smiled at him, then gestured at the picture. “Your eyes haven’t changed. Still the same stubborn determination to do the right thing, no matter the cost. I have no doubt if I could read your mind back then, it would hardly be any different at all.”

Knowing about her powers was one thing, but Steve hadn’t considered how she must see the world through their lens. It made sense that to her, the mind would be the defining feature, rather than appearance.

“Besides.” She tossed her head, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. “I have known men who were that small as teenagers, who grew to be as big as you. How is that any different? It’s still _you_.”

Steve felt kinda like he’d been sucker-punched. Like she’d struck him with her powers, left him disoriented and blank. 

‘It’s still _you_.’ 

Three simple words, with more impact than three bullets to the heart. How long had it been since someone saw _him_ , the real him?

_’The little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight, I’m following him.’_

Yeah, probably not since then. Breathless, Steve tried to collect his scattered thoughts, worried he was making an idiot of himself.

Sure enough, Wanda was staring at him wide-eyed, her hand tight on his. “What? What did I say? You feel like… like I handed you the winning lottery ticket.”

That made Steve laugh. “Kinda seems like you did. In all this time, only Bucky and Peggy have ever really got it that,” he gestured emphatically at the picture. “That _is_ still me. In every way that counts but one.”

She tilted her head, confused but open and willing to listen. Steve ran his free hand through his hair, suddenly nervous. As hard as it had been to put his love for abstract art into words, this was ten times harder because it involved his emotions. He’d never been great at letting people that far inside his defences.

“You know, all those girls Natasha tried to set me up with, the few dates I did go on, I found myself thinking, ‘What would they do if the serum wore off tomorrow?’ ‘Cause it could.” Steve shook his head. “We won’t know what the long term effects are until they happen. And if it did, well, I’m pretty sure most of ‘em wouldn’t be so interested. What would _anybody_ care if Captain America was nothin’ but a skinny guy who couldn’t run a hundred yards without collapsing?”

Biting her lip, Wanda rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. He gave her the moment to think, since she’d done the same for him. The wisps of emotion she projected were too complex for him to catch and understand.

“If you lost the serum tomorrow, you would still be the man who gave Pietro and me a chance to prove ourselves, beyond all reason.” Looking up at him, her eyes shone, but it had nothing to do with her powers. “You would still be the man who was willing to die alongside my people to prove there was no other way to save the world, who refused to save himself while even one was left behind.”

Steve was breathless again, but she wasn’t finished, only picking up steam. “It’s easy to do the right thing when you are big, and know you will probably win. Much harder when you are little, and know you will probably lose. Big or little, I don’t think you’ve ever let anything stop you. I doubt you ever will.”

It took him a couple of tries before he could say something, and he had to swallow hard first. “Plenty of things have stopped me,” Steve admitted, his voice hoarse. “I just never let ‘em stop me from _trying_.”

Her answering smile was as brilliant as the sun, and every bit as warm. “Even better.”

The warmth didn’t fade as they left the museum, and Steve wasn’t sure if it was coming from her, or him. Maybe both. Everything was a blur as his thoughts spun, racing not in circles but along entirely new paths, shaken out of their ruts by her words.

They didn’t really settle again until the drive was nearly over, finding new patterns to run in that had his heart beating faster with nerves and anticipation. When had he fallen in love with her? It wasn’t her words that made him fall; they’d just forced him to open his eyes and pay attention to what he already felt.

He worried that she’d be offended by the lack of attention he’d given her for the whole trip, only to have her squeeze his hand on the seat between them. Once again she offered silent comfort and understanding through her powers, and he accepted both with gratitude.

When they were out of the car he turned to her, stomach full of butterflies that someone had apparently fitted with repulsor engines. Wanda was stretching after the long drive, hands locked together over her head, blouse riding up to show a sliver of skin at her waist, and he cleared his throat. Dropping her hands, she gave him a curious and expectant look. “Finally sort out your thoughts?”

“Yeah, uh, sorry.” Steve felt sheepish, but she only smiled. “Didn’t mean to ignore you or anything. Thanks for not being annoyed.”

Somehow her hand was back in his again, feeling familiar and right as they walked out of the vehicle bay. “That’s all right, it happens. You didn’t seem upset or sad, so I figured it was better to leave you alone. Don’t worry, I didn’t pry.”

“I never thought you would,” he said, startled she felt the need to reassure him. As far as he knew she hadn’t once broken her promise not to dig beyond the surface with her powers. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that she might not allow him the privacy of his thoughts.

His surprise made Wanda surprised in turn. His belief in her must have touched something deep, because he saw tears glitter briefly at the corners of her eyes, before she blinked them away.

“Hey, uh.” The butterflies were back, and they’d brought some friends along. “I was thinking. What I had planned for next time is in the evening, so, maybe I could take you to dinner first?”

Wanda arched an eyebrow at him and narrowed her eyes. When she spoke, she sounded hesitant and wary. “It depends. That… sounds suspiciously date-like. Are you actually asking me out?”

In what had become a reflexive move, Steve checked to see if he could feel any emotions that didn’t match his own, but she’d wrapped her powers up tight and wasn’t leaking anything. Nothing about her expression or tone of voice suggested she welcomed the idea.

For a second Steve panicked, worried he’d ruined the incredible friendship they’d built between them, and lost the only person he had that he _knew_ didn’t care one bit about the effects of the serum.

If so, then the damage was already done. If not, he had to move forward or lose his best chance. Well, he’d never been one to back down from a challenge. “Um. Yes?” It came out as a question, not a statement.

For a moment more, she stared at him. Then suddenly she broke into a beautiful smile, and her pleasure and happiness hit him like a wave. “Good. My answer was going to match yours either way.”

Relief and astonishment washed through him, those emotions entirely his own. Finally, _finally_ , he’d asked a girl out and she’d said yes. Only took him ninety-seven years.

Then he laughed. “Even if I know I’ll probably lose, huh?”

“Stubbornness and determination are among your more charming qualities,” she teased him. “Except when they’re your most annoying. A girl likes to know she’s worth taking a risk for.”

“All right. Sixteen hundred sharp, Friday night. Dress nice.” He hesitated, still holding her hand, her face tipped up and eyes watching him expectantly. If _today_ had been a date, this was where he’d have kissed her if she let him. But it hadn’t been a date, not officially, so…

Hell with it. Steve leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers, warmth tingling through him at the contact. To his great pleasure Wanda kissed back, lips closed but firm against his, parting slightly at the end as she drew back so he caught the briefest taste of her.

“Don’t be late,” he told her, voice hoarse.

“I won’t,” she promised, as husky as he’d been.

Clearing his throat, Steve released her hand and stepped back, turning to the hall that led to his office. If he stayed any longer, especially if he followed her back to the area that held their quarters, he was going to end up kissing her again. And he might forget to stop. He had a funny feeling she might not remind him.

He really oughta at least take her to dinner first, since they were going anyway.

“Wait. Dress nice?” Wanda sounded confused, and he glanced back over his shoulder to see her standing with her hands on her hips, frowning. “What does that mean?”

Grinning, he waved at her and kept walking. Exasperation and dismay rolled over him. “Steve, that could be anything. Steve!”

Chuckling, he let the hall door swing shut behind him. It cut off her voice, but not the emotions she was projecting. Now the only question was, how the hell was he going to hang on to his patience until next Friday?


	6. Interlude

Paperwork was not exactly Natasha’s favourite part of her job. Sometimes she thought they ought to let the press come into the base and follow her and Steve around for the day, show all the starry-eyed kids out there how glorious being an Avenger _wasn’t_.

When her door chimed to indicate someone wanted her attention, she was more than happy to take a break. She punched the button to allow them in, and smiled when the door slid open to reveal Wanda.

“Maximoff. What can I do for you?”

Uncharacteristically hesitant, Wanda moved forward. Her hands were clenched together, and strands of her hair floated around her shoulders mixed with wisps of red, a sure sign she was nervous.

“I need your help,” she said, an odd catch in her voice. “Do you have a minute? It’s not urgent, if you’re in the middle of something important.”

Now thoroughly intrigued, Natasha waved for her to take a seat in front of the desk. “Nothing that can’t wait awhile. What’s up?”

“This… _thing_ that Steve and I have been doing.” Wanda made a sort of helpless gesture, grimacing at her own vague description. “Somehow we’ve ended up falling into a sort of game. We take turns deciding where to go, and don’t tell the other except to warn them what to wear. This time, he told me ‘dress nice’.”

“ _Nice_?” Natasha repeated, disbelieving. “That could mean anything from a pretty blouse to full on formal wear.”

“I know!” Wanda’s nervousness turned to exasperation, and they shared a moment of purely female frustration. Though unspoken, the word _‘Men’_ hung clearly in the air. “I tried to get him to explain, but he refused to say anything further. I thought, since you know him better than I, you might have some idea what he means.”

“I know him well enough to know he has _no clue_ how broad a range that is.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing at all you know about his plans?”

“I know it’s in the evening, and we’re going to dinner first,” Wanda said. “That’s all.”

Natasha sat up straight – figuratively, that is. There was no way she’d be so obvious about her sharp spike of interest. “You’re _going_ to dinner, or he’s _taking you_ to dinner?”

This time the red appeared in Wanda’s cheeks, not her eyes. The blush told Natasha everything she needed to know. She speared Wanda with a sharp look. “Is this actually a date, or are the two of you still trying to pretend this whole thing is casually platonic?”

“This is the first time it will be a date,” Wanda admitted, flush deepening. “Is that a problem?”

“Quite the opposite. It would be a problem if it _wasn’t_ a date.” Leaning back in her chair, she turned the whole situation over and over in her mind, examining it from every angle. “Let me see if I can put this in perspective for you. I happened to be with Steve the first time he ate a meal at a restaurant in the modern age. If he hadn’t been so damn exhausted, I think he might actually have pitched a fit at the prices.”

“Not surprising. I’d imagine everything would seem ridiculously expensive to someone from the forties,” Wanda pointed out.

“True,” Natasha agreed. “But he’d been here over a week by then, and what he said was ‘I could feed myself for days on that.’ Which, if you assume fresh ingredients and recipes with lots of leftovers, is perfectly true. Back in the forties, fifteen bucks probably could have fed him for weeks. So I’m pretty sure he knew exactly what the relative value was.”

Now Wanda was frowning, but it was a thoughtful expression, not an upset one. “What does that have to do with me?”

“He’ll go to cafes and have coffee, and he’ll eat out with friends if that’s where they go, but he’ll never choose to go to a restaurant for a full meal on his own. He thinks of it as a waste, and money and food are both things Steve detests wasting,” Natasha told her. “Probably a holdover from how he grew up, and something you likely understand better than anyone else on the base.”

Wanda’s expression turned sour. “The amount of good food Americans throw out in a single day could feed my entire country for a month. It’s disgusting.”

“Exactly.” Natasha smiled to herself. She’d had a feeling Wanda would empathize with that particular issue. “And I guarantee the words ‘going Dutch’ sound almost as bad to Steve as ‘giving up’. So the fact that he’s willing to not only take you to dinner, but to do it at a place expensive enough to require a ‘nice dress’? This isn’t flirting, anymore. He’s serious.”

Realization struck Wanda, and Natasha watched as the blood drained from her face. She sat staring at Natasha in shock and perhaps even horror, then buried her face in her hands.

Frowning, Natasha re-evaluated. Maybe she’d misread the situation after all. If that was the case, they were on a collision course for a nasty train wreck. “If that’s not something you think you can handle, you need to break it off now,” she warned the younger woman. “Before you break his heart, instead.”

Shaking her head, Wanda let her hands fall away again, her expression just this side of desperate. “Now I _really_ need the right dress!”

The panicked half-wail did a great deal to settle the nervous fluttering in Natasha’s gut. She’d miscalculated all right, but in a good direction. She hadn’t realized Wanda was already as fully invested in this as Steve.

“Give me an hour,” she told Wanda, holding back amusement. “I’ll clear my schedule for the afternoon, see if I can pry any more information out of Steve, and we’ll go shopping in New York.”

“Thank you,” Wanda exclaimed, and the fervent gratitude in her voice nearly broke Natasha’s control over her laughter.

“Thank me after it works out,” Natasha instructed her. “For now, we’ve got work to do.”

* * *

“Natasha!” Wanda all but hissed the name, glancing around the store in a furtive way that had the sales associates giving them suspicious looks. “I can’t afford a scarf in this place, let alone a whole dress!”

“Don’t worry.” Natasha patted her on the shoulder without glancing up from sorting through the racks. “You’re not paying for it. I’m putting it on the expense account.”

She’d pitched her voice to carry in a way that still sounded conversational, and the salespeople relaxed. Wanda tilted her head, curious. “How exactly are you planning to slip that by the accountants?”

Smiling, Natasha finally looked up and winked at her. She kept her voice perfectly bland. “Necessary equipment for a morale-building team exercise.”

That made Wanda chuckle. “Better hope they don’t check the name of the store on the receipt.”

“They’d more likely wonder why I was slumming it,” Natasha murmured. This time she did keep her voice down. No point in pissing off the associates. “I’m a spy, remember? That means blending in. At the levels I operate at, ‘off the rack’ is _not_ an option, no matter how expensive. If it makes you feel better, I’ll cover this under my budget for the month. Don’t expect the royal treatment for every date, though. This is a special occasion.”

“Were you able to get any more information from Steve?” Wanda watched as Natasha flipped through the offerings.

“Unfortunately he’d already taken off with Sam by the time I went looking, so no.” Natasha shrugged. “We’ll have to do it the hard way. Deduction and process of elimination.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for example if it was Stark you were going out with – yes, I’m aware you’d rather stick your hand in a blender.” Natasha laughed at Wanda’s instant expression of disgust. “If it was Stark, ‘dress nice’ would mean a high society soiree or charity event of some kind. With Steve, I think we can safely rule those out as options.”

“True.” Wanda was fighting a smile again, her eyes alight with amusement. “I think _he_ would prefer the blender, as well.”

“He’s going to want to try to impress you, maybe share something important to him with you.” Natasha was thinking out loud, tapping her nails on the metal rack. “An art gallery showing? He loves that stuff.”

“We went to an art museum for his second choice,” Wanda said. “I enjoyed it more than I thought I would, mostly because he did.”

Immediately Natasha shook her head. “Okay, he won’t repeat. Not for this first date, it’s too important.” She paused to consider her own words. “This is important. He’s going to be nervous. He’ll probably fall back on what he knows rather than trying to improvise and risk getting it wrong. So, what did people do in the forties for dates? They went dancing.”

It was Wanda’s turn to shake her head, and the sudden grief and darkness in her eyes startled Natasha. “No. It won’t be a dance. This isn’t important _enough_ for that, not yet.”

“Well, you’re the mind reader,” Natasha allowed, though she was doubtful and it showed in her tone. Then she blinked. “Hey, wait, you’re a mind reader. Why didn’t you just pick his plans out of his head?”

“Because that would be cheating.” Wanda gave her an ironic look.

“So?” Natasha wasn’t certain what that had to do with anything. Wanda had always struck her as having a very practical mindset, much like Natasha’s own. “Since when did you care about following the rules?”

Rolling her eyes, Wanda laughed. “Since I started dating Steve Rogers.”

She had a point, Natasha had to admit. If Wanda wanted to be with Steve, she had to at least try to live up to his standards. Which was exactly why Natasha had never been tempted in the least.

“All right, no dancing.” Natasha tapped her nails again, thinking hard. “A movie wouldn’t be special enough. Theatre, however, would be another story. Or live performance of that level – concert, opera, Broadway.”

“Yes,” Wanda agreed cautiously. “That would make sense with the timing. And his love of the arts.”

“Luckily, any and all of those possibilities can be covered with the same kind of dress.” Natasha pulled out a handful of cocktail dresses and passed them over to the associate hovering at a discreet distance. “Let’s get you all dolled up.”

This was going to be fun. Natasha had always wanted to see if she could blow Steve’s mind with the right dress and makeup, but she wasn’t cruel enough to try when it would only be a tease. She was going to have to arrange some kind of hidden camera, because there was no way she was missing his reaction to Wanda once Natasha got through with her.


	7. Act 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long, guys. I didn't get it done before CW came out, and as expected I then needed a while to process the new canon and adjust my view of them. Hope it's worth the wait!
> 
> If you're curious, and because it might help to have the reference, this is what inspired Wanda's dress: http://picture-cdn.wheretoget.it/sdqpxu-l-610x610-dress-ladies-corset-style-party-cocktail+dress-wear+tiered-sexy-red-black-lace-shine-mini+dress-cute-evening+dress-gothic.jpg

In her short years, Wanda had already experienced more horrors than most people would see in ten lifetimes. Horrors most people could never imagine no matter how many lives they lived, in fact. She thought it grossly unfair that something as minor as waiting for a date to pick her up could still leave her a nervous wreck.

It took everything she had not to pace the length of her room like a caged animal. Absently she rubbed her hands over the front of her skirt, feeling the heavy brocade scrape the sweat off her palms.

“Stop that. You’ll ruin the silk.” Natasha slapped lightly at Wanda’s arm, then caught both her wrists when she lifted her hands to check her hair instead. “Stop fussing. You look perfect, but you won’t if you keep touching everything.”

“You’re _sure_ he won’t think the dress is indecent?” When Natasha had pulled the body-hugging sheath off the rack in the store, with its scarlet silk and black velvet, Wanda had fallen in love. The front laced up from hem to neckline, the edges inches apart with a dark fabric panel behind the ribbon for modesty, making it unique and alluring.

Now she was having second thoughts. Steve had never said a word about the length of Wanda’s skirts or the depth of her necklines, but she’d caught embarrassment from him a few times at the way some women ‘put themselves on display’, as he thought of it. This dress covered everything from neck to knee, yes, but it was still _very_ suggestive.

“Either you trust me, or you don’t. If you don’t, then you really shouldn’t have come to me for help.” Natasha gave her a crooked smile, and Wanda caught a brush of exasperated affection from her. 

Reaching up, Natasha teased a few locks free of the upswept hairstyle she’d worked so hard to create, letting the strands hang loose to wisp around Wanda’s face. “You look beautiful, and you’re going to knock his socks off. Remember, he’s going to be as nervous as you are, so don’t stress too much.”

Actually, that might be part of the problem. When Wanda stretched out her powers she could sense Steve nearby in his rooms, getting ready as well. He _was_ nervous, and because she was thinking about him so much, she was picking up on his feelings and feeding them back into her own.

Taking a deep breath, she focused on shutting away her fear. Everything would be okay. It was ridiculous for her to even worry so much, when this was hardly the first time they’d been out together.

That thought made a warm thrill flutter low in her body, and she let the air back out again. She could do this.

When her door chimed a few moments later, Wanda knew she’d been right about the accidental feedback loop. Breaking it had helped him get over his nerves as well. She’d have to be careful about that, keep a tight rein on her powers tonight.

Rubbing her palms on her dress one last time, she went to open the door. Moment of truth.

To say Steve cleaned up well would be an understatement. He wore a dark suit that was tailored to him perfectly – Stark or Natasha’s influence, no doubt. It highlighted his broad shoulders and trim waist, and the blue of his dress shirt made his eyes seem all the brighter. He clutched a small bouquet of roses, his grip on the stems perhaps a little too tight, and he was staring at her like he was mesmerized.

Even with her powers held close, Wanda couldn’t miss the surge of intensely male appreciation from him, his gaze warm and admiring as he took her in. Natasha had outdone herself with Wanda’s hair and makeup, creating a subtle, sophisticated look that matched the dress but still held echoes of Wanda’s usual style.

Relaxing, Wanda gave him a coy smile. “Like what you see?” He was too much the gentleman to have let his eyes obviously drop, but at her invitation, he scanned more slowly over her.

Steve took in every inch of her, making no effort to hide his reaction as an equally sly smile spread over his lips. He started at her strappy shoes and went up, lingering on her legs and again on the curves revealed by the tight dress. It turned out she shouldn’t have worried he’d find it lewd - the heat that flared in his mind and expression held no hint of disdain or censure.

In fact the image that flitted through his mind, of unlacing her slowly as if unwrapping a present, made her want to draw him inside to play it out rather than leaving the base with him. She wondered if he realized she would see it.

“You’re always gorgeous, but tonight you’re a knockout.” There was a husky note in his voice that matched his tone right after he’d kissed her. He offered the roses, and Wanda revelled in the heady scent as she accepted them.

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” she teased him, lifting the flowers to better appreciate the way they perfumed the air. The petals were small and imperfect, not like the lush varieties she’d seen in American florist shops, but those might as well have been made of plastic for all the life they held. _These_ were roses.

“I need to…” Wanda stumbled, uncertain what to do with the beautiful flowers. Did she even own a vase? Leaving them to wilt on a table all night seemed wrong, but she didn’t want to make them late for dinner while she hunted down something to put them in.

“I’ll handle them,” Natasha murmured, startling both of them as she moved forward to take the bouquet. Wanda flushed, embarrassed she’d forgotten the other woman was there. Good thing she hadn’t acted on that fantasy.

“What, you playing chaperone now?” Steve asked, a flare of pink riding high on his cheeks as well.

“Why? Do you need a shovel talk?” Natasha arched an eyebrow at him, scolding and amused at the same time.

“No, ma’am.” Steve sketched her a quick salute, then offered his arm to Wanda. “Miss Maximoff? If you’ll do me the honour?”

“My pleasure, Captain.” Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, Wanda let her escort him from her room.

On the way out she masked their presence, not wanting to deal with well-meant teasing from the base personnel. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with that. The flight to New York was quiet; Steve was concentrating on the controls, but she sensed that was at least partly because he didn’t quite know what to say. Paying attention to what he was doing had never stopped them from chatting on any of their other trips.

Since she didn’t know what to say either, Wanda let him have the excuse. Her nerves were returning, and it was all she could do to remind herself not to nibble her lip and ruin the gloss Natasha had applied.

Dinner wasn’t much better. The restaurant was classy and expensive-looking, but that only made Wanda feel all the more out of place. Despite the truly ridiculous amount of money Natasha had spent on her dress, she still felt outclassed by the glitz and glamour of the rest of the crowd. Steve looked and felt just as uncomfortable, and it was obvious he’d only brought her here to try to impress her.

In turn, that reminded Wanda of her conversation with Natasha, about how serious Steve was if he was spending that kind of money to take her out. Perhaps that should have reassured her, but it only put all the more pressure on them both to make the night perfect.

And the harder they tried, the worse it seemed to get. Their conversation was awkward and stilted as they picked at the admittedly excellent dinner placed before them. Wanda held her powers in so fiercely it gave her a headache, struggling not to allow another feedback loop to form and ruin things further.

Not to mention trying to avoid catching Steve’s increasing worry that this had been a mistake, that they were destroying an amazing friendship by trying to turn it into something more. She was terrified that he might be right. 

Was it possible for them to want this so badly that it couldn’t happen?

When they left the restaurant, she breathed an unintentional sigh of relief – and was startled to hear it echoed from him. Wanda turned to him and saw the same surprise in his expression. For a long moment, they regarded each other, wide-eyed and chagrined.

Then he started to chuckle, drawing a giggle from her as well. In moments they were both laughing, and somehow their fingers had gotten tangled together, his palm warm and callused and large against hers. “Sorry,” he apologized, raising his free hand to scratch at his cheek with a sheepish expression. “That was probably really dumb, wasn’t it.”

“Next time, I pick the restaurant.” Wanda’s smile felt easy and genuine for the first time since they’d left the base. “There’s a Sokovian family running a place here in the city, and their paprikash is to die for.”

“Hey, now. Don’t ruin the game.” Steve winked at her. “Where’s the fun in telling me where we’re going next?”

“Surely we aren’t going to hide our plans from each other for the rest of our lives?”

Her words hung between them, carrying more weight than she’d meant them to. ‘The rest of our lives’ implied something much larger than the still-fragile bond they were only beginning to build.

To her great relief, he didn’t miss a beat. “Well, no, probably not always. Maybe once in a while, though. Gotta keep things interesting.”

Exasperated, Wanda smacked him on the shoulder. “The next time you give me a hint as vague as ‘dress nice’, I won’t hesitate to pick the truth out of your mind. Do you have any idea how much Natasha and I stressed over finding this dress?”

“Sweetheart, if _that’s_ gonna be the result of you stressing about it…” Steve’s gaze ran over her again, blatantly appreciative, and Wanda felt her whole body flush with heat.

“Then next time I’ll find a burlap sack,” she retorted, and he laughed.

“You’d still be drop dead gorgeous.” The absolute sincerity in his mind charmed her despite herself. He tugged her close and leaned in for a brief brush of their lips, as teasing and tantalizing as their first kiss, then drew back with a grin. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

As Natasha had predicted, he brought her to a beautiful theatre not far from the restaurant. The marquee advertised ‘The Lion King’ in bright lights. When she turned a curious look on him, Steve shrugged. “You loved the zoo so much, I thought you might enjoy this, too.”

“We’re supposed to go where _you_ want to go when it’s your turn to choose.”

“I can’t want to go somewhere that would make you happy?” His answer took her breath away, and his smile made her heart squeeze in her chest.

No, they weren’t ruining their friendship. They were deepening it to a new level – if they could only get out of their own way.

He was right about the show appealing to her. Wanda was on the edge of her seat from the moment the curtains opened, fascinated and amazed by the incredibly clever costumes that brought the ‘animals’ on stage to life despite the obvious artifice that went into them. The dancers were as graceful as the creatures they portrayed, and the music swept through her like a river of beautiful sound.

It was the first time Wanda had ever been in such a large crowd of _happy_ people, with nothing to focus on but her own matching emotions. Distracted by the show, she forgot to hold tight to her powers, and the enjoyment of everyone around her crept in to fill her to bursting.

That, in turn, made her pleasure spill over into everyone else, creating an entirely different kind of feedback loop. When Wanda realized what was happening a spike of alarm stabbed through her, and that transmitted itself as well. Desperate, she clawed for control of her power, trying to drag it back in and stop infecting everyone in the theatre.

Steve’s hand tightened on hers – or maybe hers had gone tight first, alerting him to the problem. He leaned in close enough for his lips to brush her ear as he whispered. “You okay? Need to step out?”

“My powers,” she whispered back, growing more worried with each moment she was unable to rein them in. People around them were shifting uncomfortably now, some starting to look upset. She was ruining the show for everyone.

Glancing around, Steve took in the situation at a glance, and seemed to understand. He tugged his hand free of hers, reaching up to wrap strong fingers around the nape of her neck, kneading gently at the tense muscles there. His other hand came up to cover hers again, the two points of connection like closing a circuit to increase her awareness of him.

“Wanda. It’s okay, let go.” At her incredulous look, he gave her a lopsided smile and squeezed her neck. “Stop worrying and watch the show. Enjoy it like you were a minute ago. Trust me.”

Somewhere along the line he’d learned to project his emotions at her, or at least to concentrate on them so they became clearer and easier to read. Wanda felt warmed and cherished by the affection he made no effort to hide, and beneath that was his own thrill at the beauty of the performance. Clinging to him, physically and emotionally, she made a conscious effort to let go of her fear.

Leaning on his enjoyment, she slowly recaptured her own. As she stopped panicking and struggling, her mind relaxed and the positive thoughts and feelings surrounding her flooded in once more. This time she deliberately embraced them, letting them soothe her further.

Once again the feedback loop began, but as her powers crept outward to draw in more and more people, Wanda realized what Steve had already seen. _Positive_ emotions. Pleasure and amazement and appreciation… why was it bad for her to enhance how people experienced those? She was only connecting them to each other in a network of shared joy.

Here and there negative spikes stood out, people who were bored or unhappy for various reasons. The wave of good feelings helped soothe the sharp edges, but with her power spread so thin she couldn’t accidentally override their thoughts and force anything on them.

When the invisible crest of emotions reached the stage she felt a moment of fear that it would disrupt the performers, but she needn’t have worried. If anything, the show became even better, the dancers and singers and musicians taking the appreciation of the audience and pushing themselves all the harder to live up to it, to give them the show of their lives.

At some point she lost track of the details, overwhelmed by the thrill of it. Wanda didn’t so much watch the end of the performance as experience it through the eyes of everyone around her. The crescendo of music and emotion that drove the show to its climax was so intense it was almost physical. When it was over she jumped to her feet along with everyone else for a standing ovation, her whole body resonating with energy unlike anything she’d felt before.

By the third curtain call the powerful emotions had finally begun to fade, releasing the rest of the audience from her unintentional grip. Wanda collapsed back into her seat, knees too weak to hold her up, her whole body shivering with the aftermath. She’d never experienced anything like that before. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to again, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

“You gonna be okay?” Steve shifted to wrap his arm around her shoulders, pulling her up against his side as best he could with the armrest between them. With her powers so overstimulated, she could sense every flicker and nuance in his emotions. At the moment he mostly felt concern for her, worried he’d been wrong to encourage her to relax and let it happen.

“I’m all right. I just… need to catch my breath.” Turning her head, she rested her cheek against his shoulder, concentrating on the warmth of his body, the scent of his light cologne, and the solid thump of his heart beneath her ear.

“Well, if you ever get tired of being an Avenger, you could make a killing hiring yourself out to live performance venues.” He stroked her hair, and there was awe beneath the humour in his voice. “That’s probably the best show this cast has ever given, or ever will.”

“I worried I’d distract them,” Wanda admitted.

To her surprise, Steve chuckled, fond and a little nostalgic. “There’s nothing a performer likes better than feeling that kind of energy from the crowd. It turns the whole thing into a kinda magic.”

“That’s right, you used to act on stage, didn’t you.” Wanda tipped her head up to smile at him, feeling like she was finally getting her equilibrium back. “Do you miss it?”

“Oh, _hell_ no.” The chagrin and wry deprecation in his voice and mind made her laugh. He chuckled as well, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Maybe a tiny bit, at moments like this. Trust me, nobody up there minded what you did. _Are_ you okay, though?”

“I think so.” This time when Wanda stood up her legs held her weight, though she was still shaky and unsteady. Steve stood beside her, sliding one arm around her waist, and she thought he was going to help steady her as they walked.

Then he surprised her by scooping her up instead, his other arm resting beneath her knees to carry her bridal style. Tucked up against his chest, her head on his shoulder, his warm body like a living wall between her and anything that might want to hurt her.

Wanda had lived in the midst of danger for so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like to be sheltered and protected. The sensation was addicting, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to burrow closer still as he carried her toward the exit. “You don’t have to do this. A helping hand would have been enough.”

“Hey, if you’re gonna date Captain America, you might as well get the perks.” The smile in his voice was clear enough that she didn’t need to see his expression. 

“I’m not dating Captain America, I’m dating Steve Rogers.” Funny how many people forgot that the two names weren’t interchangeable. Wanda never could, not after getting to know Steve on these trips and realizing how different he was on duty - often whether he was officially off duty or not.

A little thrill ran through him at her assertion, astonished and shyly pleased. He did seem to love it when she made that distinction, and she was happy to reinforce the idea as many times as he needed her to.

They grabbed a cab back to the Tower, and Wanda took the opportunity to sit closer to him than the theatre seats had allowed. He didn’t seem to mind, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and holding her tight.

“Would you rather stay here, or fly back to the base?” Steve stroked a hand over her hair, and she leaned into the touch.

“Mmm. Back to the base, I think.” Though she was emotionally and physically drained, Wanda would rather have the longer trip to return to her own space. Not to mention she had no clothes in New York. The dress was beautiful, but not appropriate daywear. 

It took longer for the cab to get through traffic to the Tower than it would to get to the base. It was only about a twenty minute flight by Quinjet, and once again Wanda was grateful they had access to the technology. 

Once they were in the air, she unbuckled her safety harness and pushed to her feet. Steve glanced up with a puzzled smile, and she smirked at him in return. “Room for two up there?” she asked, tilting her head at the pilot seat that was very clearly intended for only one occupant.

He blinked, startled and confused for a brief moment. Then heat seeped through her connection to him, and his eyes lit up with amusement and arousal. He flipped on the autopilot and eased the chair away from the console to create some extra space. “Depends on how cozy you’re willing to get.” 

“Oh, I think we can manage.” Stepping around to the front of the seat, Wanda regarded the arrangement and finally decided she’d have to sit sideways. Her skirt was too tight for anything else.

When she dropped onto his lap, he curved one arm around her waist and rested the other on her knees hooked over the armrest. She had to wriggle to get comfortable - though it was possible she took more time doing it than was strictly necessary. The way he breathed in sharply and tightened his grip on her was so enticing, as was the way he began to harden beneath her.

“Tease.” His voice was husky as he uttered the complaint, but she sensed no trace of annoyance in him. His free hand slid to the hem of her dress, fingers running over and under the ribbon of the lacing. “D’you have any idea how distracting that dress is?”

“Not until the first time you saw it.” Resting her head against his shoulder, she nuzzled beneath his jaw. His cologne was fading, but his scent still held traces of citrus and peppermint over something that was indefinably _male_. Or perhaps indefinably Steve. Whatever it was, it made her want to get closer still.

Bringing her hand up, she trailed over his throat and around to the back of his neck. When she traced over his nape, dragging her fingertips over the soft skin and up into his short hair, he shuddered against her. It made her wish she had the patience to grow her nails out properly, because she thought that would be even more fun to play with.

“So, I’ve been wondering all night. Does that actually unlace?” He sounded strangled, like he had to force his voice past an obstruction. Knowing she’d had such an effect on him made heat pool low inside her.

Finding his pulse point, she brushed her lips over it, smiling. “Why don’t you find out?”

“Christ, Wanda.” If the words were meant as a protest, his near-reverent tone spoiled the scolding. “We’ve got less than five minutes until we reach the base.”

“Then I suppose you must either be very patient, or very fast.” She laughed as his grip tightened and he groaned. “I’m hoping for patient, I think that will be far more fun.”

“How patient are we talking here, exactly?” Hooking two fingers in the bottom cross of the lacing, Steve tugged on the ribbon, drawing the two halves of the dress closer together. “A few more minutes, or a few more dates?”

The base was visible in the distance now, lit up brightly in the darkness. Wanda continued to trail her fingers over his neck and shoulders, teasing them both. “Honestly, I thought _you_ would be the one expecting more dates first.”

“Why does everyone always think that?” Steve huffed a laugh, and she caught exasperation as well as amusement. “I’m not from the Victorian era or something, y’know. It was wartime. Things tend to happen faster when you’re not sure there will be a tomorrow. But I mean, I’d _never_ force you, not even pressure you. You know that, right?”

Now he was genuinely anxious. Surprised, she sat up enough to let him see the sincerity in her expression. “Of course I know that, Steve. I never doubted it.”

Just as he’d never doubted that she wouldn’t force her way into his thoughts. The trust they’d built between them was far too deep for that. Leaning in, she wrapped both arms around his neck and kissed him, trying to convey that trust without words.

The ‘jet descended as the base computer connected to the autopilot, and he held her tighter so she wouldn’t slide off his lap with the bump of landing. By the time they broke the kiss, the controls had powered down automatically and the back ramp was dropping to allow them to exit. Wanda was rather short on air, and judging by the rise and fall of his chest, Steve felt the same.

Smiling, she slipped to her feet, smoothed the front of her dress down, and sashayed her way to the ramp with a deliberate swing to her hips. He swung the chair around so he could watch her properly, his appreciation for the view so heavy in her mind she could almost taste it. Or perhaps that was the lingering flavour of him on her lips.

Pausing at the top of the ramp, she looked back curiously. Nice view or not, she’d expected him to follow her by now. “You’re not coming?” Had he changed his mind about things moving too fast?

Coughing into his hand in a futile effort to hide his blush, Steve shook his head. “I, uh. Need a few minutes. Before I’m, er, fit for public.”

Without meaning to Wanda’s gaze dropped to his lap. Sure enough, a rather obvious tent strained the fabric, and she felt a rush of power and heat at the sight. _She’d_ done that to him. 

More to the point, she had _plans_ for that, and didn’t particularly want him to lose it. Not that it would likely take much to coax him back to hardness, but still. She raised a challenging eyebrow at him. “You don’t trust me to be able to get us through the base without anyone noticing?”

Deliberately she reached up and undid the bow at the top of the dress, pulling the first few inches of ribbon free. When she took a deep breath, the fabric across her breasts gaped wider with the lack of tension on the lacing.

“Wanda…” Steve was up out of the chair and prowling toward her. The heat washing through him threatened to set her on fire, too.

Turning, she sauntered down the ramp. He’d caught up to her by the time she reached the bottom, sliding his arm around her waist and cinching her close. “You’d better be right about this, or we’re never going to hear the end of the teasing.”

Chuckling, she made certain the attention of everyone they passed was elsewhere. Thankfully at this hour the base was all but empty. She couldn’t affect the security footage, but the cameras were unlikely to be zoomed in enough to catch details of their appearance.

As they approached her door, Steve glanced down at her with a raised eyebrow. She didn’t need to read minds to know he was asking whether he was coming in with her, or dropping her off. 

Smiling at him, Wanda licked her lips and watched as his eyes followed the gesture, flaring with heat. “I want you inside,” she said, and deliberately left it open whether she meant inside her quarters, or inside _her_.

Steve’s groan said he hadn’t missed the innuendo, and he barely stopped long enough for the door to open before he carried her inside. By the time it closed again he’d reached the bed, bracing one knee on the mattress as he laid her out on it.

“Ah-ah,” she scolded when he reached eagerly for the laces. “I’m not the only one getting naked here. If you want that lovely suit to stay in one piece, I suggest you take it off now.”

Even though she was a literal mind-reader, Wanda never quite anticipated what she might say that Steve would react to, or what form his reaction might take. She certainly didn’t expect her joking threat to make him draw in a shaky breath as his eyes went wide.

Not with fear. With lust. She blinked, startled. “Why…?”

A light flush spread over Steve’s cheeks as he sat back on his heels and started to shuck his jacket. “Lemme put it this way. If it weren’t for how bad I wanna peel you out of that dress, unlace it one inch at a time and enjoy the reveal, I’d probably be tempted to get you out of it much, much faster.”

The jacket fell to the floor by the bedside. His shirt really made his eyes look so incredibly blue - or maybe that was the heat flaming in them as he leaned over her. He put his hands on her waist, then slid them inward until he reached the laced front. 

Hooking his fingers over the two halves, he tugged gently. “As in, I’d get a good grip and rip it right off you. Pop the laces all the way down the centre.”

Heat raced through Wanda at the thought, the teasing tug of his hands making her wish he’d just _do_ it. The idea that he wanted her so badly he could lose control, grow so impatient with lust he would tear the dress from her… He could tear _her_ to pieces almost as easily and he never, ever would. She knew he would rather die than hurt her.

“Oh. _Oh_.” All that strength, all that power, focused on _her_. It was intoxicating. 

Apparently he thought the same about _her_ power, and the reminder of what she could do to him was just as appealing. Another man might have felt threatened, might have felt the need to prove he was still stronger, but not Steve. Never Steve. He wanted her for who and what she was, _exactly_ as she was.

Crooking her fingers, she gathered the wisps of power around her hands, concentrating on the idea of linking the power to the material of his shirt. When she yanked her hands apart the shirt tore itself off him with a sharp sound, and he gasped as his chest was bared.

Not just the shirt, either - the tearing continued through his undershirt right down to his pants and boxers. By the time the ruined fabric settled in a heap at the foot of the bed, Steve was down to nothing but his watch and socks.

They stared at each other for a moment, astonished. Then Wanda offered a sheepish smile. “Oops?”

“You got _nothin’_ to apologize for.” His voice was gruff in a way that made her thighs clench against the liquid heat pouring through her. It was difficult not to stare at all that fascinating flesh bared to her eyes, but pretty as he was, the bright flare of his emotions was more beautiful still.

“You might feel different in the morning when you have to leave,” she pointed out, a half-smothered giggle escaping her at the thought.

Steve grimaced and she caught a flash of chagrin, but it was buried quickly beneath an avalanche of desire. The state of his body suggested he didn’t care much about tomorrow’s problem; his cock was flushed with blood and standing tall, big enough to be proportional without being terrifying. He was breathing hard, and his grip tightened on her dress. She thought he’d decided to rip it off her after all.

Then he shook his head, and let go. “Nope. I’ve been looking forward to this all damn night.” When he spread his hands across her waist, his fingers curled around her sides while his thumbs met over the lacing. 

The slippery silk made it easy for him to slide his hands up, first spanning her rib cage, then up to cup her breasts from beneath. Wanda was gasping by the time he caught her straining nipples in the curve between his thumbs and forefingers, the taut peaks visible even through the heavy brocade. He played there for a moment, testing her responses, teasing more whimpers and moans out of her.

Finally he went for his real target, the lacing. Hooking his fingers beneath the first cross, he pulled and the ribbon slipped through its holes. When he leaned down, she thought he was going for a kiss. Instead, he ducked his head to run his mouth over the skin revealed at her neckline. 

Again he pulled the laces through the next set of holes. Again he sucked and nibbled at the skin no longer covered. And again, and again. His lips and tongue trailed fire in their wake, her body sensitive and tingling. Every touch, every kiss, pulled more and more heat through her until it felt as if she was melting from the inside out, like taffy beneath his hands.

“Christ, I can feel everything I do to you.” Steve nuzzled against the bare upper curve of her breast, as breathless as she felt. The trembling of his hands was subtle but noticeable, and he began stripping the lacing out more quickly.

“My powers…” As with the enjoyment and pleasure of the audience in the theatre, his arousal was feeding into her own and she was projecting that back to him in turn. Wanda wasn’t a virgin, but this was the first time she’d had significant intimate contact since she’d volunteered with HYDRA. Skin to skin, locked in desire, of course she would lose control.

“I ain’t complaining,” he hastened to assure her. In fact, he lifted his head long enough to give her a bright, almost cheeky grin, and she felt a flare of smug amusement. “Sure makes it easy to tell what to do that you’ll like.”

He had the dress unlaced to her hips, now, his cock hard and straining against her thigh as he knelt over her. Wanda wanted no barriers between them, wanted to be able to wrap herself around him, but the skirt was too tight to let her spread her legs and draw him in.

When he nudged the front of the dress aside and fastened his mouth over her taut nipple, Wanda cried out and arched her back to push harder against him. He sucked slowly, tongue lapping at the peak like a cat with cream, exploring and tasting. 

Each flick against the sensitive nub made her whimper and writhe as sparks shot through her. Every breath she drew in teased her with the rich scent of him, now laced with salt from the trace of sweat on his skin. Vaguely she was aware she was clutching his back too tight, her blunt nails digging in hard, but she felt nothing but pleasure from him in response.

Then he slid his hand beneath the remaining lacing, cupping her intimately. Wanda gasped and ground against his palm. Silk panties, dampened by need, provided only the thinnest barrier between his skin and hers. He moaned right along with her, startled and desperate as he caught the sensations she was unintentionally projecting.

“ _Steve!_ ” It was too much, it wasn’t nearly enough, he was going to drive her out of her mind. “Please, I want you inside me. _Please!_ ”

“Can we… do we need…” His brain didn’t seem to be functioning any better than hers, but she caught the image in his mind of a condom tucked away in his wallet.

“No, it’s okay, we’re safe.” Thank god, because if they’d had to _stop_ she’d have woken the whole base with a scream of frustration. When she’d first joined the team, the base doctors had given her a less intrusive way to ensure she’d only become pregnant if she wanted to be… and Natasha had dropped a subtle hint or two in the last day about Steve not being able to get sick in any way.

Seeing his hesitation, sensing his deep-seated need to be _sure_ he did the right thing by her, she slid her hands up to frame his face. “I promise.”

That was enough for him, and he sat up to pull the rest of the ribbon free. With the dress undone Wanda was able to wriggle free of it at last, pushing it off the bed and out of the way. Before she could think about sliding the panties off he twisted his hand in the waistband and pulled, yanking them right off her body.

The sly smile on his lips matched the smug teasing in his emotions. Wanda smacked him on the shoulder for the principle of it, but she didn’t mind at _all_. Just as when he’d threatened to do the same to the dress, the display of casual strength took her breath away and made her ache for him.

“Now,” she demanded, clawing at his shoulders again to bring him down over her. 

Steve laughed, strained and breathless, but settled himself between her spread thighs. “Pushy broad. This is supposed to be _my_ night to do what I want.”

“And you said earlier that what you want to do is please me,” she replied, smirking as she wrapped her legs around his waist and urged him forward. 

As he lined himself up, he leaned down to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. Wanda met him eagerly, his tongue pressing in against hers in an invasion that echoed the most intimate one. She cried out against his lips as he penetrated her, sliding home one exquisite inch at a time.

Any hope of controlling her powers was long gone, and the close contact meant his mind was so open to hers that she was almost as aware of his body as her own. Bombarded by sensations from both sides, she writhed beneath him and screamed as he came to rest all the way inside her.

Then he was thrusting, and that was impossibly even better. They lost themselves in each other, a kaleidoscope whirl of heat and touch and scent and desire like nothing either of them had ever felt before. Tension wound tighter and tighter between them, until they both quivered on the crest of the wave and Wanda half feared the ‘explosion’ might be literal.

She tumbled over first, the climax so powerful it truly felt like floating, her body too light as the water closed over her. Steve followed close behind, his hoarse shout ringing in her ears as he shuddered and drove home one last time, the hardest thrust yet.

Panting and trembling, they clung to each other as if they would drift off entirely without a physical anchor. Steve collapsed to one side, rolling her with him so they were tangled together in a tight knot of limbs. He was all she could see, hear, feel, so connected physically and emotionally that everything else ceased to exist.

“Holy shit.” Steve’s voice was hoarse, as if he’d been screaming along with her. “Holy _shit_ , that was incredible.”

Giggles bubbled up from Wanda’s chest, breaking past her currently non-existent control. He almost never swore like that, at least in her presence, and it said a great deal about how the experience had affected him. Thankfully he sounded reverent, not upset.

He flushed as he realized what he’d said. Tipping her head up, she brushed another kiss over his lips to soothe him. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Cradling her close, Steve nuzzled into her hair. The beautiful upswept style Natasha had worked so hard on was now a chaotic mess, but Steve only seemed interested in the scent of her. “You mind if I stay?”

“If you try to leave, I’m hauling you back here with my powers,” she threatened him, laughing. “I want you right where you are.”

Tucking her head down to rest against his chest, she closed her eyes and savoured the steady drumming of his heartbeat. She’d missed this so much, having someone she trusted to keep her safe while she slept. Even sated, there was too much sexual tension between them for it to be at all like what she’d had with Pietro, and yet it was very much the same in the ways that counted.

They stayed like that, enjoying the simple pleasure of contact. When he spoke again there was such a wealth of emotions swirling through him, even she couldn’t identify them all. “Wanda… I love you.”

“I know.” She’d felt it the moment he’d realized it himself, on the way back from the Smithsonian. She hadn’t realized how _deep_ his feelings ran until Natasha had rubbed her nose in it, but once pointed out it was obvious.

Steve’s emotions were always intense and pure, even when they were conflicted. His trust wasn’t easy to gain, because once given it was all but unshakable. Of course his love was the same.

Sensing a subtle tension creeping into him, Wanda was confused until she realized she’d forgotten to answer him. Instead of words, she gathered all of the love and affection, the caring and friendship, the _joy_ and comfort he had given her. Bundling it up together, she projected it at him in a wave.

“ _Damn_.” Steve blew out a shaky breath. He concentrated on his own feelings, attempting to reply in the same way. Truthfully, as close as they were right now, he didn’t even need to try.

But the words meant something, too, so she gave him that gift as well. “I love you, Steve Rogers. I thought I had no heart left to give, after it was torn out with Pietro’s death. You’ve shown me I still have much to live for.”

Not just him, though he was a big part of it. There were so many possibilities in her future that had been hidden behind her overwhelming grief. He’d opened her eyes to that, and her greatest delight was that she’d done the same for him in the process.

She knew she ought to get up; wipe her makeup off, put the beautiful dress away before it was ruined, rearrange the blankets properly. But he was so warm against her there was no need for a blanket, and she couldn’t bring herself to care about cleaning up.

No, she wasn’t going anywhere. She was exactly where she wanted to be right now.


	8. Epilogue

In all honesty, Wanda had expected the morning after to be awkward. She’d never spent the night with a lover before, but that was how it always seemed to go in stories and gossip.

Instead she woke up to Steve spooning her from behind, the strength of his arms and warmth of his body matched by the sleepy pleasure he felt at having her there. He was half hard against her, and when she turned in his arms for a good-morning kiss, they lost themselves to desire all over again.

The second time she was prepared for the intensity, and they managed to draw it out enough to properly enjoy it. As amazing as it was to be completely consumed by the feedback loop, it was nice to take their time about it and luxuriate in the experience.

It was also fascinating to see how far down his blush could go, when he remembered he had no clothes to get back to his quarters in. Trying not to laugh and embarrass him further, Wanda used her powers to clear the hall for him and he all but ran across the short distance.

After showering and dressing for the day, Wanda met him in the hall again to head for breakfast. With a shy smile he offered his hand, and she twined her fingers in his. This time she allowed people to see them - they couldn’t stay hidden behind the veil of her powers forever. 

The expected sly smirks and knowing looks quickly manifested, of course. They’d be teased for weeks, she had no doubt, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind. Especially when the first person stupid enough to wolf-whistle got such a dirty look from Steve that they actually turned pale.

As they passed the turnoff that led to the Wall, Wanda almost imagined she could hear Pietro. Not calling to her, as he seemed to do when she was drawn there in the depths of midnight. In the clear morning light it was the memory of his laughter that came to her, his bright smile. 

On top of that was a memory of Steve’s voice. _’You know that stupid thing people say, about how your loved one wouldn’t want you to suffer like that?’_

Impulsively she pulled him to a stop, turning in his hold to go up on tiptoe against him. Her arms came up, hands catching the back of his head and neck, and she tugged him down into a fierce kiss. Right there in the middle of the hallway.

When they broke apart Steve gave her an adorably bewildered look, though his hands stayed tight on her hips. “What was that for?”

“You were right,” she told him, her voice husky as she rested her head against his shoulder. “When you said he’d never want me to be unhappy. I guess I’m finally ready to hear it.”

Confusion gave way to understanding as he turned to look toward the Wall. Gently he ran his hands up and down her back. “I’m glad.”

She would always mourn her twin, but she knew Pietro would be happier if he could see her now than as she’d been before Steve dragged her away from the Wall.

To the Statue of Liberty, which seemed both ironic and appropriate - it had been the beginning of her liberation from darkness.

Once again, his emotions echoed her own. Steve held her close as he spoke. “You’ve reminded me there’s more to my life than being a soldier. You see _me_ , not the shield. You were right… I needed to move on from the past as much as you did. More.”

“Then we’ll move on together.” Then she smiled, lips curving against his skin. “But it’s still my turn to choose, next time. Dress sexy.”

His responding amusement and affection soaked into her, as he caught her hand once more and tugged her to move forward - body and heart both.


End file.
